OUNTOYS 


BERT  LEE 


V 


AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 


OH  CALU.  LIBRABY,  IAS  ANGELES 


The  Machine  Swerved  and  Maurice  Escaped  the  Thrust. 


AT  HIS 
COUNTRY'S  CALL 

A  Tale  of  the  Great  War 


BY 

ALBERT  LEE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

JOHN  F.    CAMPBELL 


NEW  YO*K  CHICAGO 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  75  Princes  Street 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 

TO 

EACH  AMERICAN 
SCOUT  SOLDIER  AND  SAILOR 

WHO  HAS 

"  DONE  HIS  BIT  " 

AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 


21311R5 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  BRONZE  MEDAL     ...  11 

II.  THE  SUBMARINE     ....  24 

III.  THE  GUN-RUNNERS       ...  41 

IV.  AN  EXCITING  CHASE      ...  54 
V.  THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE       .        .  65 

VI.  THE    BARBED    WIRE    ENTANGLE- 
MENT       74 

VII.  A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  ...  86 

VIII.  THE  GERMAN  SPY  ....  98 

IX.  THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP     .       .  110 

X.  AT  HEADQUARTERS  ....  124 

XI.  PROMOTION 133 

XII.  RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET      .        .  143 

XIII.  THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL    .        .  165 

XIV.  PRISONERS  OF  WAR        .       .        .  179 
XV.  THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL    .       .  194 

XVI.  A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH     .  208 

XVII.  THE  GERMAN  GUIDE     .       .       .229 

XVIII.  THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE     .        .  242 

XIX.  THE  GERMAN  WAR-?LANE    .        .  260 

XX.  HOME  AGAIN  281 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 
The  Machine  Swerved  and  Maurice  Escaped  the 

Thrust Title 

He  Had  the   Girl   on   the  Window-Sill,   Still 

Unconscious      .       .       .  .       .       .18 

He  Lifted  the  Major  by  His   Shoulders  and 

Dragged  Him  Along  Slowly  ....       80 

Redmayne  Put  Forth  His  Splendid  Strength 

and  Hurled  Him  Back  .  182 


I 

THE  BRONZE  MEDAL 

ME.  MILLARD  was  writing  in  his  room 
when  a  tap  came  on  the  door. 
"Come  in!"  he  cried,  and  when  the 
door  opened,  a  strapping  young  fellow  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Scout  stood  in  the  doorway,  with 
all  the  belongings  he  had  brought  from  the 
camp. 

Mr.  Millard  put  down  his  pen ;  but  before  he 
had  time  to  say  a  word  Maurice  was  at  the 
table,  holding  out  his  left  hand  to  his  father, 
who  looked  at  his  boy  in  the  utmost  surprise. 

' '  Been  to  the  wars  ? "  he  asked,  when  he  saw 
the  Scout's  right  arm  in  a  sling,  and  the  hand 
that  protruded  from  it  covered  with  white  band- 
ages, not  so  much  as  showing  his  finger-tips, 
while  his  head  and  a  part  of  his  face  was  bound 
round  with  linen. 

"A  little  bit,  father,"  Maurice  answered, 
trying  to  hide  the  fact  that  his  smile  made  him 
wince  because  of  the  pain.  "I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it  presently.  Where's  mother?" 

"In  her  sewing-room,"  his  father  said,  look- 
ing at  his  son  with  increasing  concern,  for  he 
seemed  very  much  damaged;  more  like  a  sol- 
dier just  discharged  from  hospital  than  a  Scout 
who  had  returned  home  after  rather  more  than 

11 


12  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

a  fortnight's  camping.  Then  he  saw  something 
which  attracted  his  attention,  and  he  was  even 
more  surprised. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  from?'*  he  asked, 
pointing  to  a  bronze  medal  which  hung  on  the 
Scout's  breast  by  a  red  ribbon, 

"Our  General  pinned  it  there  this  morning, 
father, ' '  Maurice  answered,  quietly,  but  looking 
down  at  the  medal  with  some  pride  in  his  face, 
which  colored  up  while  he  did  so. 

"Then  how  in  the  world  did  you  manage  to 
win  it?"  was  the  next  and  most  natural  ques- 
tion. 

"Well,  father,  it  was  like  this.  While  we 
were  out  camping  there  was  a  big  fire  at  one 
of  the  farms,  and  our  troop  went  off  quick  to 
lend  a  helping  hand.  I  was  one  of  them,  and 
got  this  at  the  review  this  morning." 

"And  got  burnt  pretty  well  by  the  look  of 
it,"  said  Maurice's  father,  greatly  concerned, 
yet  proud  to  think  that  his  boy  had  won  such 
distinction. 

1  *  Just  a  bit,  father,  but  it 's  nothing.  It  might 
have  been  a  lot  worse,  for  it  was  an  awful 
blaze  while  it  lasted.  The  doctor  says  I  shall 
be  as  right  as  a  fiddle  before  the  holidays  are 
over.  Where's  mother?  Oh,  of  course,  you 
said  in  her  room.  I'll  go  and  report  myself." 

The  boy's  face  brightened,  and  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing  he  gave  his  father  the  salute,  left- 
handed  this  time,  swung  round  on  his  heel,  and 
marched  in  his  full  camping  kit  to  the  door. 

His  father  looked  after  him  with  pride,  for 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  13 

the  Scout,  getting  on  towards  seventeen  years 
old,  was  well  worth  looking  at.  He  was  a  fine, 
well  set  up,  lusty  young  fellow  who  had  got 
into  the  Upper  Grade  by  sheer  merit,  and  not 
by  favor.  If  he  lived  up  to  his  school  and 
Scout  reputation,  and  did  as  well  in  the  world, 
he  was  going  to  make  a  fine  man — good-looking, 
muscular,  stalwart,  capable,  and  full  of  fine  in- 
telligence. He  would  become  one  of  that  sort 
of  men  who  make  his  country  what  it  is  to-day 
— men  with  moral  muscle,  as  they  say,  and  who 
would  never  stoop  to  mean  and  shabby  tricks 
just  to  make  a  bit  of  money,  or  gain  a  position. 
"What  has  the  dear  boy  been  doing  now,  I 
wonder?"  Mr.  Millard  said  to  himself,  taking 
up  his  pen  as  soon  as  the  door  was  shut.  In- 
stead of  writing  he  put  his  pen  down  again,  and 
sitting  back  in  his  chair,  began  to  puzzle  his 
brain  as  to  the  bronze  medal.  Among  his  books 
in  the  room  was  a  "  Scouts'  Manual,"  and  get- 
ting out  of  his  chair,  he  went  to  the  shelves, 
took  down  the  book,  looked  at  the  index,  and 
then  turned  to  the  page  where  he  saw  what  was 
said  there  about  the  Scout's  Bronze  Medal. 
His  eyes  opened  wide,  and  his  heart  beat 
quickly  with  pride  because  of  what  was  printed 
there.  It  was  not  much,  but  it  meant  a  great 
deal. 

"The  Bronze  Medal  is  mounted  on  a  red 
ribbon  and  is  awarded  to  a  Scout  who  has 
actually  saved  life  where  risk  is  involved." 

Mr.  Millard  read  the  paragraph  again  and 


14  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

again,  and  looked  at  the  picture.  Yes.  It  was 
exactly  the  same  as  the  medal  Maurice  was 
wearing. 

"It's  like  him,  dear  old  fellow,"  he  muttered 
to  himself.  "He  never  boasts.  There's  not  an 
ounce  of  conceit  in  him.  He  does  a  thing  just 
as  though  it  was  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  he 
could  do  no  other.  But  think  of  it !  I  wonder 
what  he  really  did  to  win  that  medal?" 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  maid 
brought  a  telegram  to  her  master,  and  he  read 
it  quickly. 

"Take  this  to  your  mistress,  and  tell  her  I 
am  going  to  catch  a  train,"  Mr.  Millard  said, 
looking  at  his  watch.  Finding  he  had  barely 
time,  he  hurried  out  of  the  room,  caught  up 
his  hat  and  umbrella,  and  walked  up  the  street 
quickly.  Beckoning  to  a  taxicab  at  the  corner, 
he  told  the  driver  to  take  him  to  the  station. 

"The  very  man  I  want!"  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  stepped  into  the  train,  and  saw  someone 
dressed  in  a  Scoutmaster's  uniform,  and  sitting 
in  the  corner  of  the  car,  reading  a  news- 
paper. 

The  Scoutmaster  looked  up. 

"Why,  it's  Millard!"  he  exclaimed,  putting 
out  his  hand.  "I'm  reading  this  new  edition  of 
the  evening  paper,  and  it  gives  some  ugly 
news  about  Germany  and  Russia,  and  France 
as  well,"  Lycett  exclaimed.  "It  looks  very 
much  as  though  Germany  means  war." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Millard,  seriously, 
sitting  in  the  opposite  corner  of  the  cab. 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  15 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  went  on,  as  soon  as 
he  had  glanced  at  the  headlines  in  the  paper 
which  Lycett  handed  to  him.  He  put  the  paper 
on  the  seat  while  he  spoke. 

" Lycett,  you're  my  boy's  Scoutmaster,  aren't 
you ! ' ' 

"Yes,  I  am,"  said  the  other,  with  a  pleasant 
laugh.  "And  I'm  proud  of  the  fact.  But  what 
do  you  want  me  fort"  he  asked,  looking  at  Mr. 
Millard. 

"Maurice  has  come  home  as  though  he  had 
been  in  the  wars,  and  not  merely  Scout-camp- 
ing. When  he  came  to  my  room  to  report  him- 
self his  right  arm  was  in  a  sling,  his  head  was 
bandaged,  but  he  wore  a  bronze  medal  on  his 
breast.  I  spotted  it  at  once,  but  could  get  very 
little  out  of  him.  He  merely  said  there  had 
been  a  big  blaze  at  one  of  the  farms,  and  he 
and  some  other  Scouts  had  helped  to  put  it 
out." 

The  Scoutmaster's  face  had  a  strange  look 
on  it. 

"Millard,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  ought  to  be 
the  proudest  Scout  father  living!" 

The  train  began  to  move  at  the  moment,  the 
porter  slammed  the  door,  and  now  that  they 
had  the  car  to  themselves,  the  Scoutmaster  told 
a  story  which  thrilled  the  listener  who  sat 
opposite  to  him. 

"The  fourth  night  after  we  went  into  camp 
your  boy  was  on  duty  as  Patrol  Leader,  and 
was  out  scouting  with  his  patrol,  because  we 
were  supposed  to  be  expecting  a  surprise  from 


16  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

an  enemy.  All  was  quiet,  but  suddenly  one  of 
Maurice's  patrols  came  tearing  along  to  my 
tent. 

"  'There's  a  farm  on  fire,'  the  boy  panted. 
'Millard  has  gone  off  with  the  patrol  to  give 
some  help,  for  it's  a  big  blaze,  sir.  He  sent 
me  to  you.' 

"There  was  scarcely  need  to  tell  me  that 
much,  for  while  the  Scout  was  speaking  I  saw 
the  blaze,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  Scouts  in 
camp  were  swarming  from  their  tents  and  wait- 
ing for  orders.  As  soon  as  I  had  told  off  some 
to  guard  the  camp  I  called  for  volunteers,  and 
we  started.  I  had  scarcely  given  the  word 
before  we  were  going  helter-skelter  across  the 
fields,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  farm  we 
found  that  Maurice  and  his  patrol  were  busy 
in  all  sorts  of  ways,  doing  the  first  thing  which 
promised  to  be  useful.  They  had  already 
turned  out  the  frightened  horses  from  the 
stable  into  the  fields,  and  when  I  came  up  they 
were  driving  the  cows  from  the  barns. 

"Before  many  moments  had  gone  I  had  set 
every  boy  to  some  sort  of  work,  but  after  a 
while  I  heard  something  which  made  my  blood 
run  cold.  The  flames  had  got  hold  of  the  house, 
and  it  was  doomed.  If  every  fire-engine  in  the 
countryside  had  been  playing  on  it  they  could 
not  have  saved  it.  But  one  half  was  not  yet 
touched,  although  the  flames  and  the  wind  were 
moving  in  that  direction.  The  farmer  had  gal- 
loped off  for  the  engines,  but  none  so  far  had 
come,  and  long  before  he  could  get  back  the 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  17 

house  would  be  in  ruins  at  the  rate  it  was 
burning. 

* '  '  My  girl 's  in  that  room, '  the  farmer 's  wife 
cried,  crazy  with  terror,  and  wringing  her 
hands. 

"  'Which  room?'  I  asked;  and  she  pointed  to 
one  of  the  windows  which,  so  far,  did  not  seem 
to  have  been  touched  by  the  flames. 

"Your  boy  was  standing  near,  and  heard 
what  the  woman  said. 

"  'I'll  have  a  try  for  her!'  he  exclaimed,  and 
he  was  off  before  he  had  said  it  all,  as  hard  as 
his  feet  would  carry  him.  You  can  imagine 
how  fast  that  would  be,  since  none  in  our  troop 
could  have  a  look  in  with  him.  I  went  after 
him,  but  before  I  got  to  the  door  he  was  going 
up  the  stairs.  The  entrance  was  full  of  fire, 
and  the  staircase  was  already  cut  off.  He 
must  have  dashed  through  the  flames,  for  when 
I  stood  in  the  doorway  he  was  taking  the  bend 
oJ  the  stairs. 

"It  seemed  to  me,  as  he  went,  that  the  whole 
of  the  staircase  was  on  fire,  and  that  the  flames 
licked  out  at  him;  but  he  went  on,  and  at  that 
moment  great  flames  burst  out  at  the  doorway, 
driving  me  and  the  other  Scouts  back. 

"When  he  was  in  hospital,  because  of  his 
burns,  I  heard  what  happened  when  Maurice 
passed  out  of  my  sight,  and  this  is  how  I  make 
out  the  story,  for  he  was  so  loath  to  say  much. 
I  had  to  drag  it  out  of  him.  The  house  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs  was  black  with  smoke.  The 
door  of  one  of  the  rooms  to  his  left  was  open, 


18  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

and  he  saw  a  mass  of  fire.  It  was  not  there 
that  the  girl  was  lying,  for  the  farmer's  wife 
had  pointed  to  the  room  on  his  right  hand. 

*  *  He  opened  the  door,  and  looked  into  a  room 
which  was  black  with  smoke.  The  flames  that 
roared  behind  him  showed  him  what  was  inside. 
A  girl  of  fifteen  was  lying  on  the  bed,  uncon- 
scious— dead,  perhaps — choked  with  the  smoke. 
Going  quickly  to  the  bedside  and  bending  over 
her,  he  found  that  she  was  breathing. 

"Snatching  her  up  in  his  arms,  thinking 
nothing  of  her  weight,  though  she  was  a  big 
girl,  he  carried  her  to  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
meaning  to  carry  her  down;  but  when  he  came 
to  the  bend  he  saw  that  the  flames  were  sweep- 
ing up  the  staircase  with  a  roar,  and  the  tongues 
of  fire  seemed  to  leap  up  at  him. 

«  <Try  the  window,'  I  shouted,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  get  through  that  furnace  to  him; 
but  he  did  not  hear  me  in  the  roar  and  hiss 
that  added  to  the  fire's  horror. 

"Seeing  how  impossible  it  was  to  carry  the 
girl  down  the  stairs,  Maurice  turned  back  into 
the  room,  swiftly.  His  ready  wit  served  him 
well,  for  laying  his  burden  on  the  floor,  he  ran 
to  the  window,  threw  it  wide  open,  and  looked 
out.  Before  any  of  us  could  suggest  what  he 
should  do  he  had  disappeared,  and  we  won- 
dered whether  the  floor  had  gone,  especially 
when  we  saw  that  the  flames  were  in  the  room 
beneath. 

"I  never  passed  such  long  and  anxious  mo- 
ments, but  at  last  he  was  at  the  window  again ; 


He  Had  the  Girl  on  the  Window-Sill,  Still  Unconscious. 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  19 

this  time  he  placed  the  girl  on  the  window-sill, 
still  unconscious,  and  he  began  to  lower  her 
by  the  sheets  he  had  knotted  together  to  make 
a  rope.  How  he  had  strength  to  do  it  I  can't 
imagine;  but  as  you  know,  he  has  the  frame 
almost  of  a  man.  He  lowered  her  carefully 
until  I  had  the  girl  in  my  arms. 

"  'Is  she  safe!'  he  cried,  looking  out  when 
he  saw  that  the  strain  was  no  longer  on  the 
sheets. 

"  'Yes,'  we  shouted  back. 

"  'Then  I'm  coming  myself,'  he  exclaimed, 
and  he  began  to  crawl  on  to  the  window-sill; 
but  to  our  amazement  he  turned  back,  and  we 
lost  sight  of  him.  We  soon  knew  the  reason. 
A  terrier  was  whimpering  on  the  bed,  and,  as 
Maurice  put  it  to  me  afterwards,  he  could  not 
think  of  leaving  the  poor  creature  to  die. 
Although  every  moment  was  precious,  and  the 
flames  were  already  in  the  room,  some  of  them 
coming  through  the  floor,  we  saw  him  bring  the 
frightened  dog  to  the  window.  He  had  tied  the 
sheet  rope  about  him,  and  began  to  lower  him 
swiftly. 

"  'Be  quick,'  he  cried;  and  while  he  called, 
we  saw  the  flames  behind  him.  The  knot  was 
too  firm  to  unfasten,  and  I  cut  it  away. 

"  'Catch  me  if  I  fall.  The  flames  may  burn 
the  sheets  and  I  shall  drop,'  he  called  down  to 
us.  'Hold  that  out  to  catch  me.' 

"He  tossed  a  blanket  through  the  window, 
and  crawling  out,  the  flames  licking  about  his 
hands  and  face,  he  lowered  himself  hand  under 


20  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

hand.  I  never  saw  anyone  come  down  a  rope 
of  any  sort  so  swiftly,  but  even  then  he  was  too 
late.  He  was  still  in  mid-air  when  the  flames 
burnt  through  the  sheet  he  had  fastened  to  the 
bedstead,  and  he  fell.  But  the  blanket  he  had 
flung  out  was  held  by  a  dozen  of  us,  and,  thank 
God!  we  caught  him  in  it,  although  we  stag- 
gered with  the  weight  when  his  body  came  down 
with  a  crash. 

1  'He  knew  no  more  all  through  that  night, 
for  when  I  caught  the  dear  old  fellow  in  my 
arms  he  was  unconscious,  and  for  all  the  night, 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  next  day,  it  seemed 
doubtful  whether  he  would  pull  through. 

"  'I'm  going  to  wire  to  your  people,'  I  said 
to  him,  soon  after  he  came  round. 

"  'No,  please  don't!'  he  exclaimed,  anxiously. 
'  It  will  frighten  them.  Mother  will  think  it's 
a  lot  worse  than  it  really  is.  Just  say  nothing. ' 

"He  seemed  so  distressed,  so  afraid  of  the 
shock  to  his  mother  and  his  sister,  Marjorie, 
that  we  kept  quiet,  but  we  nursed  him  well,  and 
being  otherwise  in  such  fit  condition,  he  grew 
better  every  day.  In  a  day  or  two,  the  doctor 
said  this  morning,  he  can  take  off  his  bandages. 

"I  wrote  to  our  Chief,  who  was  coming  down 
to  review  the  Scouts,  and  told  him  the  whole 
story.  This  morning  he  took  everybody  by 
surprise,  for  he  called  Maurice  out  before  a 
thousand  of  us,  who  had  come  in  from  different 
camps,  told  them  what  he  had  done,  and  when 
he  had  pinned  the  Bronze  Medal  on  your  boy's 
breast,  he  said  it  was  one  of  the  bravest  deeds 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  at 

he  ever  knew  done  by  a  Scout;  and  the  noblest 
part  of  all  seemed  to  be  his  kindness  to  a  help- 
less dog!'* 

There  was  silence  in  the  train  when  the 
Scoutmaster  ended  the  story. 

"You'll  be  proud  of  your  boy,  Mr.  Millard," 
he  said,  presently,  looking  at  Maurice's  father, 
whose  eyes  were  gleaming. 

"Proud  isn't  the  word  for  it,  Lycett,"  he 
answered.  * '  I  can  only  thank  God  for  keeping 
him  from  death,  and  thank  Him  again  and 
again  for  giving  me  such  a  son." 

When  the  little  family  knelt  that  night  for 
family  prayer,  Maurice  felt  his  face  grow  hot 
because  of  what  his  father  said  in  his  prayer, 
and  his  twin  sister,  Marjorie,  who  was  by  her 
brother's  side,  was  so  surprised  that  she  lifted 
her  face  from  her  hands,  and  gazed  across  the 
table  at  her  father. 

"His  mother  and  I  thank  God  for  giving  us 
such  a  boy  for  our  son;  one  who  is  bold,  and 
brave,  and  true,  and  who  lives  up  to  his  Scout 
promises,  putting  duty  before  all  other  things, 
just  as  he  did  a  few  days  ago  when  camping 
out  with  his  comrades.  God  give  him  grace  to 
be  as  true  all  his  life  through;  as  ready  to 
serve  others  as  he  has  been  during  the  last 
fortnight.  And  while  he  won  that  mark  of 
honor  for  a  deed  so  brave,  may  he  be  as  true 
to  his  God,  and  as  resolute  to  live  a  brave  and 
spotless  life,  as  the  knights  of  olden  time,  who 
were  without  reproach." 

Maurice 's  eyes  sparkled  when  he  got  up  from 


22  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

his  knees,  and  kissing  them  all,  he  went  to  his 
room.  He  had  scarcely  shut  the  door  when 
Marjorie  opened  it,  and  came  in. 

"What  did  father  mean  by  saying  what  he 
did  about  your  brave  deed  in  the  camp?"  she 
asked. 

' '  Oh,  it  was  only  what  any  other  Scout  would 
do  if  he  had  the  chance.  I  had  all  the  luck, 
Marjorie,  and  was  able  to  get  some  frightened 
horses  and  cows  out  of  the  burning  buildings 
into  the  fields.  Poor  beggars ! "  he  added,  as  he 
leaned  against  the  back  of  the  bed,  and  looked 
at  his  pretty  sister's  face.  "How  horrible  if 
they  had  been  ringed  round  with  that  fire! 
Good-night,  Sis.  I'm  awfully  sleepy." 

Marjorie  kissed  him.  She  kissed  his  band- 
aged hand,  and  even  the  Bronze  Medal,  which 
made  'him  laugh. 

"You  needn't  laugh,  Mr.  Patrol  Leader," 
she  exclaimed,  her  face  reddening.  "I  was 
bound  to  do  something  to  show  how  proud  I 
am  of  my  brother,  who  must  have  done  a  lot 
more  than  that.  They  don't  give  Bronze 
Medals  to  Scouts  unless  they  do  something 
very  special.  I've  read  what  they  say  in  the 
'  Scouts '  Manual. '  So  there ! ' ' 

She  tripped  out  of  the  room,  her  face  beam- 
ing, and  Maurice,  like  a  tired  soldier,  tried  to 
keep  awake  while  he  said  his  prayer;  but  the 
moment  his  head  touched  the  pillow  he  was 
fast  asleep.  An  hour  later  something  awoke 
him,  and  opening  his  eyes,  he  saw  by  the  light 
of  the  moon  that  stole  in  at  the  window,  that 


THE  BRONZE  MEDAL  23 

his  mother  was  at  his  bedside.  He  heard  her 
saying,  softly: 

"My  own  brave  boy." 

His  uninjured  arm  stole  round  her  neck. 

"Mother,  what  did  father  mean  by  his  prayer 
after  supper?"  he  asked^  while  her  cheek 
touched  his. 

"Exactly  what  he  said,  my  dear.  Your 
father  met  your  Scoutmaster,  and  heard  the 
whole  story.  I  can't  tell  you  how  proud  I  am! 
It  was  such  a  splendid  thing!  Maurice,  my 
dear,  if  you  had  died  in  that  burning  room, 
I  think  my  heart  would  have  broken;  but  I 
should  have  been  proud  of  my  boy  to  the  end 
of  my  days,  to  think  that  he  was  so  chivalrous. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  us?"  she  added,  half 
scoldingly. 

"It  would  have  sounded  like  boasting, 
mother,"  Maurice  said,  with  a  catch  in  his 
voice,  for  he  felt  that  his  mother's  cheek  was 
wet  with  tears. 

"We  should  never  have  had  such  a  thought," 
she  said,  and  kissing  him,  she  went  away. 

"I'll  deserve  the  dear  little  mother's  love, 
and  father's  trust,"  said  Maurice,  sitting  up  in 
the  bed.  "They  believe  in  our  Scout  promise 
to  do  good  turns  to  other  people,  and  I'll  do 
my  solemn  best  never  to  disappoint  them." 

He  lay  back  in  bed,  and  was  soon  asleep 
again,  dreaming  afresh  of  that  terrible  night  in 
the  blazing  farmhouse. 


n 

THE  SUBMARINE 

MAUEICE  fully  expected  to  go  back  to 
school,  but  the  unexpected  happened 
which  changed  the  plans  that  had  been 
made  for  him. 

The  day  his  sister  started  for  her  school  in 
France  he  stood  on  the  footboard  of  the  rail- 
way car. 

"I  say,  Sis,"  he  said  to  Marjorie,  laughing 
while  he  held  her  hand,  "if  you  see  any  of  the 
Germans,  and  they  begin  to  rant  about  war 
with  France,  just  you  tell  them  they'll  get  jolly 
well  beaten,  and  that  if  they  try  any  of  their 
nonsense  with  you,  you've  got  a  big  brother 
who  means  to  join  the  army,  and  do  his  best 
to  bring  the  Germans  down  a  notch  or  two." 

There  was  a  laugh  and  a  kiss,  and  as  the 
train  began  to  move,  Maurice  dropped  off  the 
footboard,  watched  the  train  steam  out  of  the 
station,  and  went  home.  Two  hours  after  that 
he  went  back  to  meet  his  father,  who  had  been 
wired  for  on  important  business ;  but  when  he 
stepped  out  of  the  railway  car,  Maurice  opened 
his  eyes  in  surprise  to  see  his  Uncle  Bernard 
following  him  on  to  the  platform. 

Maurice  had  understood  that  he  was  in 
Japan,  superintending  the  reconstruction  of 

24 


THE  SUBMARINE  25 

the  Japanese  fleet,  and  it  was  supposed  that 
he  would  be  staying  there  for  a  couple  of  years 
more.  Yet  there  he  was,  bronzed  and  sturdy, 
as  fine-looking  and  cheery  as  any  man  in  the 
Navy. 

"Why  are  you  here,  uncle!"  was  Maurice's 
first  question,  as  soon  as  they  had  shaken 
hands.  "Is  there  going  to  be  war!  And  have 
they  brought  you  home  to  help  sink  the 
German  fleet!" 

His  uncle  laughed. 

"Wait  till  we  get  home.     'Twill  keep." 

While  they  were  having  tea  in  the  garden, 
Uncle  Bernard  told  them  that  he  had  been  sent 
for  by  the  government  to  take  charge  of  a 
scientific  expedition  to  various  parts  of  the 
world,  and  what  he  said  made  Maurice 's  mouth 
water.  He  was  to  captain  a  submarine,  and 
among  other  things  was  to  explore  the  floor 
of  the  ocean  in  certain  parts,  bringing  back 
answers  to  some  important  questions.  He  was 
also  to  go  up  two  great  rivers  and  describe  the 
things  he  saw,  but  he  was  to  watch  particularly 
what  the  German  warships  he  met  were  doing. 

"You'll  miss  the  war,  uncle,"  Maurice  ex- 
claimed, when  he  had  finished;  "and  they  say 
there's  bound  to  be  one,  sooner  or  later." 

"Sooner  or  later!"  said  Captain  Bernard, 
smiling.  "It  will  be  'later.'  Do  you  suppose 
the  government  would  go  in  for  an  expedition 
like  this,  costing  thousands  of  dollars,  if  they 
really  thought  there  would  be  war!  I  shall  be 
gone  and  back  again  before  the  Germans  start 


26  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

fighting.  Besides,  strong  as  their  fleet  is, 
they  would  scarcely  think  of  measuring  their 
strength  against  our  magnificent  Navy." 

Maurice  had  taken  in  every  word.  If  only 
he  could  go !  he  thought.  To  dive  down  to  the 
ocean  depths,  where  all  sorts  of  mysteries  were 
hidden — to  know  how  much  was  true  in  Jules 
Verne's  books — it  would  be  splendid!  But  it 
was  useless  to  think  about  it.  He  had  to  go 
back  to  school  in  a  week  or  two  for  another 
term.  The  idea  of  having  any  part  in  such  a 
trip  was  an  impossible  one,  he  thought. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Maurice  went  to  his 
room,  but  it  was  idle  to  think  of  going  to  bed 
with  that  thought  of  the  submarine  trip  upper- 
most in  his  mind.  It  was  a  lovely  night,  and 
he  opened  the  window  and  stepped  out  on  to 
the  balcony.  While  he  stood  there,  with  his 
hands  deep  down  in  his  pockets,  he  could  hear 
voices.  He  leaned  over  the  railings  and  saw  his 
mother,  father,  and  his  uncle,  who  were  talking 
without  any  thought  of  secrecy,  and  Maurice, 
who  had  no  wish  to  play  the  part  of  eaves- 
dropper, could  not  help  hearing  what  was 
said. 

His  uncle  was  going  into  further  details 
about  this  journey,  telling  his  hearers  that  some 
well-known  scientific  men  were  to  accompany 
him,  as  were  also  his  own  two  boys.  Maurice 
heard  it  all.  His  hands  came  out  of  his  pockets, 
and  he  gripped  the  rail  of  the  balcony  tight  in 
his  eagerness  not  to  miss  a  word. 

* '  I  wonder  Maurice  did  not  say  he  would  like 


THE  SUBMARINE  27 

to  go,"  Uncle  Bernard  exclaimed,  when  he  had 
lit  his  cigar  and  tossed  the  match  away. 

"He  would  be  thinking  of  going  back  to 
school,"  said  Maurice's  mother.  "He  has  one 
term  more  to  run." 

'  *  One  term ! ' '  said  Uncle  Bernard,  half  scorn- 
fully. "He  would  learn  twenty  times  as  much 
if  he  came  with  me,  and  there's  room  for 
him." 

"I'm  content  if  he  wishes  it,"  said  Mr. 
Millard.  "What  do  you  say,  mother!" 

"I  would  like  him  to  go.  We  can  pay  the 
term  money  to  the  school,  and  let  Maurice  have 
this  splendid  chance.  He  would  be  safe  with 
my  brother,  and  such  an  opportunity  may  never 
come  again.  But  he  has  not  said  he  would 
like  to  go." 

"And  that  surprised  me,"  said  Captain 
Bernard,  who  was  sitting  back  in  the  lounge 
chair,  enjoying  his  smoke. 

Maurice  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"They  don't  know,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I 
want  to  go,  but  I  thought  they  would  not  like 
it.  I'll  just  go  and  tell  them." 

Swinging  away  from  where  he  stood,  and 
going  down  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time, 
nearly  overturning  the  maid  who  was  passing, 
he  hurried  into  the  garden. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  bed,"  his  mother  said 
as  Maurice  stood  in  front  of  them,  with  the 
moon  shining  on  his  eager  face. 

"It  was  no  use,  mother.  I  got  thinking  of 
the  voyage  uncle  is  taking,  and  I  want  to  go,  if 


28  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

be  will  have  me.    What  do  you  say,  father!" 

His  father 's  face  was  all  smiles. 

"Your  uncle  is  willing  if  you  would  like 
to  go." 

"Are  you  and  mother  willing?" 

"We  are  both  of  the  same  mind,  my  boy!" 

"How  jolly!"  cried  Maurice,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  his  father,  and  going  to  his  mother  to 
kiss  her. 

"That's  all  right  then,"  said  Captain 
Bernard,  who  was  looking  on  with  a  broad 
smile  on  his  face.  "Shake  hands,  my  boy,  on 
the  bargain.  We  start  on  Monday,  so  that  you 
have  three  busy  days  before  you  in  getting  your 
outfit.  It  will  be  for  all  sorts  of  weather — 
hot  and  cold,  snow  and  hail  and  storm,  and 
blistering  sunshine.  But  we'll  go  into  details 
to-morrow.  They  tell  me  you  mean  to  be  a 
soldier. ' ' 

"That's  true,  uncle;  but  I'm  glad  to  go  on 
this  voyage  first." 

"So  much  the  better,  I  think."  Then  Uncle 
Bernard  added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye :  ' '  By 
the  time  we  come  back  you  will  be  able  to  begin 
soldiering,  unless  you  decide  instead  to  be  a 
sailor  in  the  Navy." 

On  the  following  Monday  the  Waverley  was 
on  her  way,  commencing  what  the  authorities 
expected  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
voyages  ever  attempted.  Those  who  saw  her 
gliding  out  of  the  harbor,  with  her  conning- 
tower  and  a  large  part  of  her  great  gray  back 


THE  SUBMARINE  29 

rising  finely  out  of  the  water,  which  washed 
against  her  rounded  sides,  wondered  how  long 
she  would  maintain  her  place  as  the  finest  sub- 
marine afloat.  It  was  talked  about  freely  as 
a  "toss  up"  which  was  better — the  Waverley, 
or  some  of  the  German  under-seas  craft  which 
were  said  to  beat  anything  that  ever  moved  be- 
neath the  surface.  Still,  it  was  claimed  that 
the  Waverley  was  "second  to  none." 

No  one,  save  the  Department  and  those  on 
board,  knew  what  her  business  was,  and  very 
few  knew  exactly  how  she  was  constructed, 
except  a  prowling  engineer  who  managed  in 
some  way  to  get  on  board,  but  was  found  by 
a  couple  of  sailors  in  the  act  of  examining  the 
machinery,  and  who  got  tossed  off  the  sub- 
marine without  ceremony,  being  left  to  take  his 
chance  of  "sink  or  swim."  He  turned  out  to 
be  a  German,  and  when  he  landed,  dripping 
wet,  he  was  arrested,  tried,  and  sentenced  to 
three  years  in  prison  as  a  spy. 

The  presence  of  three  young  fellows  on  the 
platform, — and  each  of  them  in  smart  Scout 
uniform — Maurice's  cousins — with  the  Captain 
and  two  or  three  seamen,  gave  no  one  any  idea 
that  the  Waverley  was  about  to  undertake  one 
of  the  most  adventurous  voyages  any  under-sea 
vessel — Jules  Verne's  excepted — had  ever  at- 
tempted. 

There  was,  however,  another  passenger  on 
board,  and  he  had  come  without  permission. 
He  had  been  smuggled  on  board  by  Ted 
Bernard  when  his  father's  back  was  turned, 


30  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

and  had  been  taken  to  the  berth  unknown  to 
anyone,  being  told  to  keep  quiet  if  he  did  not 
want  to  be  put  ashore. 

It  was  Jugs,  a  Scotch  terrier,  one  of  the 
jolliest  and  quaintest-looking  of  rough-haired 
dogs  that  ever  smelt  a  rat,  and  he  was  dead  on 
that  sort;  but  what  sport  he  was  likely  to  find 
on  a  submarine  it  was  hard  to  say.  He  under- 
stood the  position,  and  jumping  into  the  bunk, 
he  went  into  the  darkest  corner,  curled  himself 
up,  and  lay  soundless,  even  when  his  master 
went  out  and  shut  the  door.  But  the  moment 
he  was  alone  he  sat  up,  cocked  his  ears,  sniffed, 
and  blinked  his  eyes  with  satisfaction.  He  was 
content  to  wait  for  his  master,  who,  with  his 
brother  Tom  and  Maurice,  were  having  the 
sight  of  their  lives  at  the  moment. 

There  were  the  great  docks  where  they  were 
laying  down  the  keels  of  new  dreadnoughts, 
and  some  which  were  nearly  ready  to  go  on 
commission.  They  passed  submarines  in  plenty, 
but  all  were  puny  in  point  of  size  compared  to 
the  Waverley,  who  went  on  proudly,  as  if  she 
knew  that  she  was  the  monarch  of  her  class. 
There  were  great  armored  and  protected 
cruisers  and  torpedo  boats  and  destroyers; 
and  yet,  while  some  of  them  were  capable  of 
remarkable  speed,  the  Waverley  could  beat  the 
best,  for  above  water  she  could  do  her  thirty 
knots,  and  at  a  push  put  on  as  many  as  thirty- 
five. 

"Now,  my  boy,"  said  Uncle  Bernard,  laying 
his  hand  on  Maurice's  shoulder,  and  pointing 


THE  SUBMARINE  31 

to  all  these,  "see  what  preparations  we  have 
made  for  war,  if  war  ever  comes.  Do  you 
suppose  Germany  can  go  one  better!" 

"I  know  they'll  never  get  anywhere  near," 
exclaimed  Ted,  who  was  looking  about  proudly. 

At  last  they  got  away  and  out  into  the 
open  sea.  Standing  with  their  backs  against 
the  conning-tower,  the  boys  felt  the  sea  breezes 
blowing  on  their  faces,  and  tasted  the  salt 
spray  on  their  lips. 

"Here's  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave  for  you!" 
cried  Tom,  opening  his  mouth  wide  to  drink  in 
the  sea  air. 

It  was  their  first  taste  of  the  ocean,  and  it 
was  a  delight.  There  was  no  need  as  yet  for 
any  underwater  experiences,  and  consequently 
Uncle  Bernard  kept  the  Waverley  going  with 
her  tower  and  periscope  and  gray  back  above 
the  surface ;  but  it  so  happened  that  before  the 
day  had  gone  the  weather  changed.  The  sun 
went  in,  and  a  misty  rain  began  to  fall.  The 
sea,  as  the  submarine  drove  farther  into  it,  had 
a  heavy  swell  on,  and  later  the  spray  sprang 
over  the  Waverley 's  back  and  washed  the 
platform. 

They  were  in  for  nasty  weather. 

"You  must  go  below,  boys,"  said  Captain 
Bernard,  when  the  trio,  like  himself,  were  wet 
to  the  skin,  because  of  the  spray  and  the  soak- 
ing rain  that  followed. 

"Hallo,  Jugs!"  cried  Ted,  flinging  open  the 
door  of  their  berth,  and  when  he  had  switched 
on  the  electric  light,  he  saw  the  terrier  sitting 


32  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

up  in  the  corner,  cautious  before  he  attracted 
attention,  lest  he  might  be  seen  by  someone 
who  would  bundle  him  ashore.  Ted  heard 
his  stumpy  tail  slapping  against  the  side  of 
the  bunk,  and  laughed  at  the  question  Jugs 
seemed  to  put  as  to  whether  he  could  not 
come  out  of  hiding  into  light,  and  liberty,  and 
fun. 

"Come  along,  old  fellow." 

In  a  moment  Jugs  was  on  his  legs.  A  bark 
was  broken  off  short  when  Ted 's  forefinger  went 
up,  and  he  understood.  There  was  yet  time  to 
put  in  somewhere  and  then  a  desolate  journey 
home  in  a  guard's  van. 

"Lie  low  till  to-morrow,  Jugs,  and  then 
you'll  have  the  run  of  the  place,  and  we'll  see 
how  you  like  a  sailor's  life." 

The  Waverley  went  on  in  splendid  style,  and 
the  boys  talked  and  amused  themselves  for 
hours.  She  proved  to  be  a  fine  sailer,  and  there 
was  scarcely  any  oscillation,  although  there  was 
an  immense  swell  on. 

"She's  a  champion,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
who  came  in  with  a  message  for  the  boys  to 
be  sure  to  change  into  dry  clothes  at  once. 
"She's  what  I  calls  Al.  I've  bin  in  one  o' 
these  'ere  submarines  afore,  an'  a  beastly  thing 
she  was.  You  didn't  dare  to  yawn,  or  sneeze, 
or  shift  a  plate  on  the  mess  table,  but  the  blessed 
thing  tipped  as  if  she  meant  to  topple  over. 
An'  when  you  comes  to  think  as  there  was 
more'n  a  dozen  of  us  aboard,  an'  all  on  us  'ad 
warious  duties  to  perform,  you  can  imagine  as 


THE  SUBMARINE  33 

we  tipped  frequent,  an'  sometimes  didn't  know 
which  was  floor  an'  which  was  ceilin'." 

Warne  had  scarcely  said  as  much  when  there 
was  a  sudden  smash,  and  sailor  and  boys  alike 
were  in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  with  Jugs  among 
them  with  a  frightened  yelp.  The  whole  body 
of  the  Waverley  trembled;  there  were  cries  of 
startled  men  in  every  part  of  the  craft. 

When  they  scrambled  to  their  feet,  the  trio 
and  Warne  were  unable  to  stand  without  grip- 
ping tight  to  something  solid. 

"Somethin'  more'n  a  wave  that,"  exclaimed 
the  sailor,  who  looked  ruefully  at  his  smashed 
clay  pipe. 

"What  can  it  be?"  came  the  question  from 
the  others,  since  the  floor  did  not  right  itself, 
but  remained  at  an  angle,  which  made  standing 
difficult. 

" A  collision,"  said  Warne,  who  scrambled 
off  on  his  hands  and  knees,  crawling  out  at  the 
doorway.  The  others  followed,  eager  to  know 
what  had  happened,  and  wondering  whether,  in 
case  of  her  having  been  run  down,  the  sub- 
marine would  sink,  and  drown  them  all,  like 
so  many  rats  in  a  trap. 

It  was  an  awful  thought — a  weird  experience 
at  the  outset  of  a  voyage  which  had  so  many 
promises ;  to  be  smashed  into  like  that,  perhaps 
by  a  huge  liner  in  the  fog,  which  would  feel 
herself  jar  against  something,  she  knew  not 
what,  and  move  on  in  the  mist  without  lending 
a  helping  hand.  Maurice  recalled  a  story  of 
the  experiences  of  some  who  were  in  a  sunken 


34,  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

submarine,  where  one  of  the  officers  wrote  the 
account  of  what  happened  to  the  men  below, 
waiting  for  death.  The  submarine  had  been 
fished  up  later  on,  and  this  paper  was  found; 
but  all  on  board  were  dead.  Was  this  to  be 
the  end  of  those  who  were  in  the  Waverley  f 

Maurice  and  his  cousins  managed  to  crawl 
to  the  steps  which  led  up  to  the  conning-tower, 
and  by  this  time  the  Waverley  had  partly 
righted  herself;  but  there  was  still  the  feeling 
that  she  was  damaged  in  some  way,  for  her 
nose  was  dipping  downward.  Maurice  could 
hear  the  propeller  whirling  at  a  terrific  rate, 
as  if  no  longer  in  the  water,  but  in  the  air 
above  the  surface. 

What  did  it  mean!  Was  it  that  the  sub- 
marine was  so  damaged  that  she  would  pres- 
ently make  a  plunge  down  and  down  to  the 
floor  of  the  sea,  while  those  who  were  on 
board  would  be  shut  in  to  die  of  suffocation, 
when  their  storage  air  was  exhausted?  Above 
all  other  sounds  came  the  somewhat  dimmed 
noise  from  outside,  like  the  screaming  of  fog- 
horns, and  the  siren  of  a  great  ocean  liner,  or 
a  big  warship. 

Warne  was  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and 
refused  to  allow  Maurice  and  his  cousins  to 
mount.  He  had  been  up  himself,  and  was 
come  down  at  what  was  almost  a  plunge  to  do 
something  at  the  Captain's  orders. 

' '  Stay  where  you  are, ' '  he  cried.  *  *  If  you  go 
up  you'll  be  in  the  way,  an'  perhaps  that'll 
mean  the  loss  of  everything." 


THE  SUBMARINE  35 

He  said  this  as  he  moved  off  to  carry  out  his 
orders. 

"What's  happened?"  Maurice  asked,  keep- 
ing pace  with  the  sailor,  and  stumbling  like 
him  as  they  moved  on  to  the  engine-room. 

"A  German  cruiser  'as  run  us  down.  I  know 
she's  German  by  'er  cut,  an'  I  just  caught  sight 
of  'er  flag.  If  we  was  at  war  I'd  say  as  she  did 
it  a  purpose,  an '  I  believe  she  meant  to  sink  us. 
I've  no  faith  in  them  Germans,  an'  I  don't  love 
'em  too  much,  by  no  means. ' ' 

That  was  all  Warne  would  say,  for  he  had 
serious  work  on  hand,  and  it  was  no  time  for 
talking.  He  came  out  of  the  engine-room  in  a 
few  moments,  and  by  that  time  the  machinery 
was  at  a  standstill,  so  that  when  he  mounted  to 
the  conning-tower  again,  the  vibration  had 
ceased,  and  the  terror  of  the  accident  seemed 
to  have  diminished  considerably. 

Still  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  with 
his  cousins,  Maurice  heard  the  Captain's  voice 
ring  out  angrily. 

"You  ran  us  down  willfully,"  he  cried  in 
German.  "You  heard  my  siren,  and  you  saw 
me!  It  was  done  on  purpose,  and  I  shall 
report  it,  and  the  name  of  your  ship,  to  the 
Department." 

His  voice  shook  with  anger;  then  he  cried 
out  again  to  the  German:  "Slacken  speed! 
Can't  you  see  we're  hooked  on  to  you  some- 
how? Do  you  want  to  sink  us?" 

No  answer  came  from  the  warship,  nor  did 
she  stop.  Suddenly  the  submarine  lurched,  as 


36  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

though  she  had  been  unexpectedly  loosened, 
and  Maurice  and  his  cousins  tumbled  all  in  a 
heap  on  the  floor.  Warne,  who  was  half-way 
up  the  ladder,  fell  with  a  crash,  and,  striking 
his  head  against  something,  lay  motionless, 
dead,  perhaps,  but  certainly  stunned,  and  those 
who  were  at  the  conning-tower  were  lying  about 
in  all  directions.  There  was  a  loud  and  deri- 
sive laugh,  as  from  many  men,  something  was 
said  which  Maurice  could  not  catch  about  ac- 
cursed Americans,  and  then,  when  he  got  on 
his  feet  painfully,  and  ran  up  the  steps,  he  saw 
the  great  warship  moving  away,  without  wait- 
ing to  see  whether  she  could  render  any  aid. 

By  this  time  Captain  Bernard  was  on  his 
feet,  heedless  of  pain,  and  of  the  fact  that  blood 
was  streaming  from  a  wound  in  his  forehead. 
His  first  thought  was  the  safety  of  his  sub- 
marine, and  as  he  searched  for  the  symptoms 
of  her  damage,  Maurice  could  see  that  he  antici- 
pated the  worst. 

The  Waverley  did  not  right  herself,  and  as 
Maurice  watched,  like  his  uncle,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  submarine  was  so  badly  damaged 
that  she  would  presently  settle  down  and  find 
her  way  to  the  sea  floor,  incapable  of  rising 
again. 

The  Captain  shouted  his  orders,  and  his 
men,  such  of  them  as  were  not  too  seriously 
hurt  to  move  about,  made  a  fine  response;  but 
the  position  seemed  a'  hopeless  one.  Nothing 
that  could  be  done  would  put  the  Waverley 
right  again.  Her  nose  dipped  lower  and  lower, 


THE  SUBMARINE  37 

until  she  suddenly  swerved,  and  to  everyone's 
surprise  straightened  herself  out,  and  the  pro- 
peller was  in  the  water  once  more.  Captain 
Bernard  waited  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
this.  Then  his  cry  came,  sharp  and  clear,  for 
those  in  the  engine-room: 

''Set  the  motors  going  for  all  they're  worth. 
I  fear  we  are  sinking,  but  we  may  get  to  port 
in  time.  It  is  ten  miles  off." 

Damaged  though  she  was,  the  Waverley  re- 
sponded, and  plunged  on  through  the  waters. 
The  fog  had  lifted,  and  she  seemed  to  know  that 
she  was  riding  home  for  dear  life ;  and  with  the 
Captain  at  the  wheel,  determined  to  save  her 
if  it  were  possible,  she'  met  his  call. 

But  could  she  keep  afloat  so  long!  She  was 
doing  thirty-five  knots,  for  her  electric  motors 
were  not  damaged,  and  with  that  speed  on  her 
she  ought  to  run  into  port  in  twenty-five 
minutes  at  the  longest. 

As  she  plunged  on,  trembling  and  rolling,  an 
order  came  which  told  of  possible  death : 

"Let  every  man  put  on  his  lifebelt,  and  bring 
me  one." 

So  many  of  the  crew  were  hurt,  or  looking 
round  the  submarine,  to  keep  an  eye  on  any 
unsuspected  danger,  that  the  Scouts  were  the 
only  ones  available  to  follow  out  the  Captain's 
order.  Ted  and  Tom  carried  the  lifebelts  to 
all  parts  of  the  Waverley  where  there  were  any 
men,  and  they  helped  to  fasten  them  on  those 
who  were  too  seriously  injured  to  do  it  for 
themselves.  In  case  the  submarine  must  sink 


38  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

they  could  be  carried  up  to  the  conning-tower, 
and  have  their  chance. 

Maurice  took  one  up  to  his  uncle,  who  caught 
at  it,  but  scarcely  looked  at  his  nephew,  his  eyes 
scanning  the  shore  a  long  way  in  front  of 
him. 

"Hold  the  steering-wheel,  my  boy,  while  I 
put  this  on.  You  see  that  point  yonder?"  he 
asked,  indicating  a  spot  on  the  coast  far  on  in 
front. 

"Yes." 

"Then  keep  her  nose  straight  on  that.  We 
shall  do  it  yet,  please  God. ' ' 

Meanwhile  Captain  Bernard  was  fastening 
his  belt  on,  watching  Maurice,  and  content  when 
he  saw  how  capably  he  was  following  his  in- 
structions. He  spoke  presently,  when  he  came 
to  the  last  fastening. 

"I  am  sure  those  Germans  willfully  ran  me 
down.  They  signaled  that  they  wanted  me  to 
draw  near,  and  when  I  did  so,  having  no  reason 
to  suspect  them,  the  ship  suddenly  put  on  full 
speed  and  smashed  into  me  before  I  could  get 
out  of  the  way!" 

The  Captain's  face  was  dark  with  anger,  as 
his  eyes  searched  the  waters  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  the  warship;  but  she  was  far  away, 
scarcely  visible  on  the  horizon. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  manage  the  wheel 
while  I  go  below  to  have  a  look  round?"  the 
Captain  asked  presently. 

"Easily,  uncle." 

"Why,  boy,  you  haven't  a  lifebelt  on,"  ex- 


THE  SUBMARINE  39 

claimed  the  Captain,  with  concern,  turning  his 
attention  to  his  nephew. 

11  There's  plenty  of  time,  uncle.  Besides, 
I'm  a  strong  swimmer.  We're  only  a  mile  or 
so  away  now,  and  if  the  Waverley  goes  down 
I  shouldn't  need  a  belt  for  that  distance,"  said 
Maurice,  with  quiet  confidence.  "Will  she 
keep  afloat  so  long?" 

"I  think  so.  I'll  go  below  and  have  a  look 
round. ' ' 

Maurice  stood  to  his  task,  and  yet  it  seemed 
to  him  to  be  more  and  more  hopeless.  The 
submarine  was  doomed.  She  lay  more  on  her 
side  than  before,  and  it  was  as  much  as  he 
could  do  to  stand  at  the  steering-wheel. 
Something  kept  the  Captain  down  below,  but 
he  came  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder  and  called, 
presently : 

"How  far  away  now?" 

"We  are  close  by  the  entrance." 

The  Captain  sprang  up  the  ladder  three 
steps  at  a  time,  and  his  face  brightened  when 
he  took  the  wheel  and  looked  ahead. 

"It's  all  right  in  one  way,  thank  God!"  he 
exclaimed.  "I  am  going  to  run  her  aground, 
and  then  no  lives  will  be  lost,  but  a  lot  of 
the  poor  fellows  below  have  broken  something 
—a  leg,  or  an  arm,  or  a  head,"  he  added 
regretfully.  "It  was  a  shameful  bit  of  busi- 
ness, and  in  time  of  peace,  too,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

He  looked  ahead  now,  keenly,  and  for  a  little 
while  he  said  nothing.  The  submarine  was 


40  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

swaying,  and  seemed  as  though  she  would 
make  a  downward  plunge. 

"She  looks  like  sinking,  uncle." 

"I  think  not.  She  is  badly  damaged, 
though.  Some  of  her  plates  are  crumpled, 
two  of  her  bulkheads  are  broken  away  at  the 
bow,  and  there's  lots  of  damage  besides.  If 
the  motors  keep  going  I  think  we  shall  save 
her.  The  German  meant  to  sink  us,  I'm 
sure,"  the  Captain  exclaimed  again.  "  'Twas 
a  burning  shame.  Dastardly,  I  call  it!"  he 
cried,  angrily,  gripping  the  wheel  tightly,  to 
change  the  direction  a  little.  "Two  or  three 
minutes  more!" 

The  men  who  were  not  seriously  injured, 
and  could  do  no  more  to  save  the  submarine, 
crowded  up  the  ladder,  eager  to  know  what 
chance  there  was  of  being  saved.  Then  came 
a  jar  which  nearly  shook  off  those  who  were 
on  the  steps.  The  Waverley  came  to  a  sudden 
standstill,  and  not  one  kept  his  footing;  not 
even  the  Captain,  who  gripped  the  wheel,  for 
his  feet  shot  under  him.  But  he  straightened 
himself  quickly. 

"Pick  yourselves  up,  lads,"  he  cried.  "The 
Waverley 's  saved!  I've  run  her  aground." 


in 

THE  GUN-RUNNERS 

THE  Waverley  was  so  badly  damaged 
that  she  had  to  go  into  dock  for  repairs, 
and  the  report,  when  she  had  been  over- 
hauled, was  that  it  would  take  weeks  to  make 
her  seaworthy  again. 

Maurice  took  the  first  train  home,  and  got 
in  just  as  the  bell  rang  for  breakfast,  taking 
everybody  by  surprise. 

"I'm  awfully  disappointed,  father,"  he  said, 
when  he  had  told  the  story  of  the  submarine's 
misfortune. 

"I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  his  father  answered 
sympathetically.  "It  brings  the  old  saying  to 
mind,  that  'Man  proposes,  but  God  disposes.' 
Look  here,  dear  boy,  you  may  make  up  your 
mind  that  God  has  some  other  plan  for 
you." 

While  he  was  speaking,  the  newspaper  was 
brought  in,  and  then  their  hearts  beat  quickly, 
for  it  was  printed  in  large  letters  that  war  had 
begun.  An  enormous  German  Army  was  on 
the  move  towards  the  French  frontier;  but  no 
one  suspected  what  really  happened  a  day  or 
two  later — that  the  Germans  broke  their 
solemn  promise  not  to  violate  Belgian  neu- 
trality and  rushed  their  soldiers  into  Belgium. 

41 


42  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

The  world  looked  on  in  wonder,  for  the  Bel- 
gian Army  stood  in  the  way  of  the  Germans, 
but  it  was  like  a  pigmy  trying  to  stop  a 
giant. 

Then  England  joined  in  because  she  must, 
for  honor's  sake,  and  Maurice  forgot  all  about 
his  disappointment  over  the  Waverley.  He 
felt  proud  of  his  country  because  she  would 
not  stand  by  and  see  the  brave  little  army 
beaten  down,  and  the  land  overrun  with  Ger- 
many's hordes,  who  laughed  in  scorn  at  the 
protests  against  their  perfidy. 

"I  ought  to  do  something,  father,"  said 
Maurice,  feeling  that  this  war  called  on  every- 
one's patriotism.  "Do  you  think  I  shall  get 
a  chance?" 

"If  you  mean  going  into  the  army,  I'm 
afraid  you're  too  young,"  his  father  an- 
swered, looking  his  son  up  and  down,  and 
thinking  what  a  fine,  strapping  fellow  he  was. 
He  could  have  easily  passed  for  eighteen. 

"But  I'm  more  than  seventeen,  father. 
And  look  at  my  size.  There's  a  soldier  going 
along  the  road.  Just  look  at  him!  I'm  half 
a  head  taller,  and  if  he  can  fight,  can't  I?" 

His  father  smiled. 

"There's  an  age-limit,  my  boy." 

Maurice  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  before 
he  could  say  anything  his  father  spoke  again. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  heard  last  night — that 
Scouts  can  render  splendid  service  at  home,  if 
they  care  to  offer." 

Maurice  was  alert  in  an  instant. 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  43 

"Are  you  willing  that  I  should  offer?  And 
you,  mother?"  he  asked  eagerly,  taking  the 
coffee  from  her  hands. 

"I  should  be  sorry  if  you  did  not,"  said  his 
father.  And  his  mother  added,  "And  I  think 
you  should,  my  dear.  Why  not  go  and  see  your 
Scoutmaster?" 

"I  will,  as  soon  as  breakfast  is  over.  I'll 
have  a  jolly  big  one  to  keep  up  my  inner  man ! ' ' 
Maurice  added,  with  a  laugh,  holding  out  his 
plate  for  another  slice  of  bacon. 

He  started  off  when  the  meal  was  over,  but 
to  his  dismay  Mr.  Lycett  had  started  for  the 
city,  and  would  not  be  back  till  the  seven  o  'clock 
train  in  the  evening. 

Maurice  left  the  doorstep  and  moved  down 
the  street  slowly,  wondering  what  he  should  do. 
He  passed  a  newsagent's  shop,  and  a  thought 
came ;  then  he  went  in  and  bought  a  time-table. 
Looking  into  it  he  saw  that  a  train  would  start 
in  seven  minutes.  The  station  was  ten  minutes' 
walk,  but  he  went  at  a  trot,  and  presently 
sprinted,  managing  to  catch  the  train  "by  the 
skin  of  his  teeth,"  as  he  put  it,  when  he  sank 
into  the  seat  in  the  car  just  as  the  train 
moved  away  from  the  platform. 

Mr.  Lycett  was  gone  off  on  business,  and 
would  not  be  back  all  that  day. 

"Done  a  second  time,"  Maurice  said  to  him- 
self. '  *  What  am  I  going  to  do  now  ? "  he  asked, 
when  he  was  in  the  street.  "Go  to  head- 
quarters, of  course!"  he  exclaimed,  and  with 
this  in  his  mind  he  caught  the  underground 


44  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

train,  and  in  half  an  hour  he  had  told  his 
business. 

"What  can  you  do?"  asked  the  official,  who 
was  so  busy  that  he  scarcely  knew  which  way 
to  turn. 

"Anything;  or  at  least  I  can  try." 

The  official  laughed,  and  looked  at  the  clock. 

'  *  Come  back  in  half  an  hour,  or  say  an  hour. 
I'm  sending  Scouts  in  all  directions,  and  put- 
ting them  on  to  all  sorts  of  jobs.  Some  have 
been  told  off  to  guard  culverts,  some  to  keep 
an  eye  on  the  railway  bridges — all  manner  of 
things ;  but  I  can  surely  find  something  that  will 
suit  you.  I  see  your  record  is  here,  and  you 
hold  the  Bronze  Medal,  and  other  things." 

When  Maurice  went  back,  sharp  to  time,  he 
was  told  that  he  would  be  taken  on  as  mes- 
senger for  the  War  Office. 

1 '  When  will  you  start  ? ' ' 

"Now,  sir.  I'll  only  need  to  send  a  telegram 
home,  and  let  them  know  I'm  down  for  duty." 

"That's  all  right,  then." 

Maurice  was  told  where  to  go  to  receive  in- 
structions, and  because  the  note  he  took  with 
him  stated  that  his  record  ran  that  he  was  a 
Scout  of  unusual  alertness,  he  was  told  off  to 
watch  along  the  East  Coast,  and  give  in  reports 
to  the  Coast  Guard,  keeping  the  keenest  pos- 
sible lookout  for  any  sign  of  treachery. 

His  duty  was  exacting;  as  hard  and  im- 
portant in  its  way  as  though  he  had  joined 
Pershing's  Army,  and  was  in  France,  or 
training  for  it.  He  found  himself  one  night  on 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  45 

a  lonely  road  near  the  sea,  in  a  countryside  be 
did  not  know,  save  by  the  help  of  the  map  that 
was  given  to  him.  His  special  errand  just  then 
was  to  carry  an  important  message  for  the 
Coast  Guard,  and  the  rain  was  coming  down 
in  torrents. 

Feeling  for  his  dispatch,  to  make  sure  that 
it  was  safely  stowed  away  where  it  could  not 
get  wet,  he  looked  about  him  for  some  sort  of 
shelter,  and  close  by  he  saw  the  dark  form  of 
a  house,  which  was  apparently  in  absolute 
darkness. 

" Empty,  I  suppose,"  said  Maurice.  "I  can 
stand  there  at  any  rate  until  the  worst  of  this 
is  over,"  he  muttered,  while  the  rain  was  beat- 
ing against  him,  and  pouring  off  his  hat  and 
down  his  face. 

While  he  spoke  he  drew  up  close  to  the  wall, 
and  set  his  back  against  it.  It  afforded  him  but 
little  shelter,  and  he  wondered  whether  there 
was  a  doorway  in  which  he  could  stand.  He 
moved  on  carefully,  not  to  catch  his  foot  in 
something  unseen,  and  have  a  fall ;  then  feeling 
as  he  went,  he  found  a  doorway.  To  his  sur- 
prise the  door  was  wide  open. 

"I'll  step  right  in,"  he  exclaimed;  but  he  had 
scarcely  done  so  when  he  was  startled  with 
hearing  men 's  voices. 

Looking  along  the  passage,  he  saw  a  streak 
of  light  along  the  floor,  evidently  the  bottom  of 
a  door,  and  the  voices  came  from  that  direction. 

For  a  while  he  stood  in  silence,  not  knowing 
whether  it  was  safe  or  not,  in  such  a  lonely 


46  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

place,  to  make  himself  heard ;  but  in  the  intense 
quietness  he  heard  something  which  made  him 
listen  eagerly.  What  he  heard  caused  him  to 
go  softly  nearer  to  the  door,  where  he  would 
hear  all  that  was  said;  for  here  was  treachery. 

Maurice  wondered  what  things  were  like  on 
the  other  side  of  the  closed  door.  There  were 
three  voices,  so  he  judged;  there  might  be 
more;  but  certainly  three.  One  was  that  of 
one  of  his  countrymen,  but  from  occasional 
short  sentences  which  came  into  the  conversa- 
tion, and  from  the  accent  of  the  speakers,  the 
other  two  were  Germans. 

"When  does  this  vessel  come  in!"  Maurice 
heard. 

"Into  St.  James's  Creek  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,"  came  the  answer.  "She  has  on 
board  twenty  thousand  rifles,  newest  pattern,  a 
million  rounds  of  ammunition,  twenty  machine 
guns,  and  a  quantity  of  dynamite,  all  to  be 
hidden  away  here  till  the  signal  is  given  for  the 
naturalized  Germans  to  assemble.  When  that 
day  comes,  and  it's  within  a  week  from  now,  we 
shall  stand  a  chance  of  doing  some  mischief." 

"What  about  my  money!" 

' l  Some  of  it  is  here.  One-half  down  as  soon 
as  the  vessel  is  in  the  creek,  and  one-half  on 
the  night  when  the  Germans  mobilize  here  and 
get  their  arms.  That  night  a  German  General 
is  to  land,  and  I  can  tell  you  we  shall  put  up  a 
big  fight.  The  home  fleet  will  come  down  here, 
but  a  big  convoy  of  German  ships,  bringing 
soldiers  by  thousands,  will  land  them  some- 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  47 

where  else,  get  a  footing,  and  make  things 
possible  for  an  invasion." 

The  other  laughed. 

"I've  no  great  reason  to  think  kindly  of  my 
country,  and  I  was  told  when  I  was  in  Berlin 
that  it  would  be  made  worth  my  while  to  do  all 
this,  and  risk  my  neck;  but  I  expected  more 
money  than  that  by  a  long  way." 

' '  You  will  have  more  when  our  men  have  won 
their  footing;  twice  as  much,  I  was  told  to 
promise  you, ' '  said  one  of  the  Germans.  '  *  The 
night  when  these  men  of  ours  now  in  this  coun- 
try are  here,  there  will  be  others  by  hundreds — 
by  thousands — in  different  parts,  concentrating 
by  stealth,  to  take  the  authorities  by  surprise." 

Maurice  had  listened  in  amazement,  but  he 
felt  that  it  was  his  duty,  storm  or  no  storm, 
to  go  away  softly,  and  give  this  information 
to  the  officer  of  the  Coast  Guard.  He  began  to 
move,  but  stopped  in  an  instant,  for  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a  man's  footsteps  near  the  door  of 
the  house.  Then  came  the  heavy  stamp  of 
boots  along  the  passage,  straight  for  the  door 
at  which  he  had  heard  these  treacherous  plans 
spoken  of.  He  drew  back  close  to  the  wall, 
hoping  that  the  man  would  pass,  and  waited, 
scarcely  breathing.  But  the  passage  was 
narrow,  and  his  hope  come  to  nothing,  the 
moment  the  man  was  near  him. 

The  stranger  brushed  against  something, 
and  his  hand  went  out  in  an  instant.  Maurice 
tried  to  move  away,  knowing  that  he  was  dis- 
covered, but  he  felt  himself  gripped,  and  a 


48  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

question  came,  in  the  German  accent  such  as 
he  had  noticed  with  the  others. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked. 

Before  there  was  time  for  an  answer,  the 
German  cried  aloud.  There  was  a  noise  in  the 
room,  and  the  sound  of  a  falling  chair ;  the  door 
was  opened,  and  a  flood  of  light,  it  seemed  to 
Maurice,  after  that  intense  darkness,  betrayed 
him  to  these  men  who  hurried  out  in  response 
to  the  newcomer 's  call. 

"Somebody  playing  the  part  of  spy!  One 
of  those  Scouts,  by  Jove ! '  *  cried  the  man  with 
whom  Maurice  was  struggling  desperately ;  but 
strong  as  he  was,  he  was  no  match  for  four 
men,  and  before  long  he  was  dragged  into  the 
room  and  savagely  tossed  to  the  floor.  Some- 
one closed  the  door,  twisted  the  key  in  the  lock, 
pulled  it  out,  and  dropped  it  into  his  pocket. 

"So  you've  been  spying?"  exclaimed  the 
Englishman,  who  was  near  to  Maurice.  "Get 
up  and  answer  for  yourself. ' ' 

He  kicked  at  Maurice,  who  sprang  to  his  feet 
quickly,  and  faced  the  four  men  who  crowded 
round  him. 

"What  did  you  hear!"  the  Englishman 
asked,  but  Maurice  gave  no  answer,  nor  did  he 
give  any  reply  to  the  questions  that  were  reiter- 
ated. The  temptation  was  strong  to  tell  this 
man  to  his  face  that  he  was  a  traitor,  and  ought 
to  be  shot,  but  it  would  avail  him  nothing.  It 
was  better  to  maintain  silence. 

"Fortunately  you  came  when  you  did,"  said 
one  of  the  men,  turning  to  him  who  had 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  49 

stumbled  against  Maurice  in  the  passage. 
"Else  he  would  have  given  us  away.  We'll 
have  to  keep  him  a  prisoner  till  this  coup 
comes  off." 

"Why  not  kill  him  offhand?"  asked  one  of 
the  Germans,  pulling  out  his  revolver,  and 
examining  it  to  see  that  it  was  in  working 
order. 

"No!  I  won't  have  murder,"  exclaimed  the 
man  who  was  apparently  a  superior  officer. 
"We  will  lock  him  up  in  the  top  room,  on  the 
quarry  side,  and  keep  him  there." 

The  others  assented,  and  Maurice,  in  spite  of 
a  renewed  struggle  when  he  found  himself  in 
the  passage,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  manage 
to  slip  away  and  be  lost  in  the  darkness,  was 
compelled  to  yield  to  numbers  and  move  up  the 
stairs,  with  one  man  in  front,  carrying  a  lamp 
to  show  the  way,  and  the  others  following  to 
cut  off  his  retreat. 

~"This  is  the  room,  and  the  door  is  strong," 
exclaimed  the  man  who  carried  the  lamp.  "It's 
solid  oak,  as  you  people  in  this  country  love  to 
call  it;  and  as  luck  has  it,  the  bolt  is  on  the 
outside.  Now,  Master  Scout,  in  you  go!" 

Maurice  found  himself  almost  tossed  in.  He 
felt  himself  going  headlong,  and  was  barely 
able  to  save  himself  from  dashing  against  the 
opposite  wall.  He  kept  his  footing  and  pulled 
up  in  time;  then  he  heard  the  door  slam,  and 
the  bolts  shoot  into  their  sockets. 

"He'll  not  get  out  now,"  he  heard.  Then 
followed  the  noisy  tramp  of  men  down  two 


50  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

flights  of  stairs,  the  slam  of  a  door,  and  silence. 
At  first  Maurice  began  to  despair,  not  so  much 
because  of  his  own  danger  as  for  the  deadly 
damage  that  would  be  done  if  this  gun-running 
expedition  succeeded.  It  would  mean  so  much : 
fighting  on  home  soil;  loss  of  property — for 
these  men  had  been  talking,  while  he  listened, 
of  devastation  on  an  alarming  scale — of  signals 
for  Zeppelins,  and  signals  as  well  for  battle 
cruisers  to  raid  the  coasts.  The  raiders,  and 
these  who  were  to  be  armed  with  the  guns  that 
were  coming,  were  to  burn  whatever  they  came 
across.  They  would  harry  the  villages,  and  de- 
stroy the  farms,  killing  the  cattle,  and  anything 
that  came  their  way,  men,  women,  or  children, 
just  as  had  been  done  in  that  fearful  sweep 
through  Belgium  with  fire  and  sword. 

It  was  this  which  Maurice  thought  of,  and  he 
was  distressed  beyond  words  to  find  that  he  was 
helpless,  and  could  not  give  warning.  Had 
he  been  able  to  get  away,  he  could  have  raced 
to  some  telegraph  office,  and  the  messages 
would  be  flashed  in  a  dozen  different  directions. 
Even  if  the  gun-runners  were  not  captured  lives 
would  be  saved,  and  the  plans  of  the  Germans 
frustrated. 

The  storm  had  passed  by  this  time,  and  then 
the  moon  came  out  from  behind  great  broken 
clouds.  It  shone  through  the  window,  and  he 
saw  that  the  room  was  filled  with  fighting  mate- 
rial: rifles,  revolvers,  machine  guns  in  pieces, 
hand  grenades,  bayonets,  boxes  of  cartridges- 
hundreds  of  things  which  belonged  to  the 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  51 

equipments  of  soldiers,  stacked  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing, and  only  leaving  a  space  like  a  passage 
from  the  door  to  the  window,  which  was  pos- 
sibly kept  clear  to  enable  the  Germans  to  look 
out  to  sea. 

Startled  by  this  discovery,  Maurice  went  to 
the  window  and  found  that  it  was  unfastened. 
He  lifted  it  softly  to  see  what  chance  there  was 
of  escape. 

The  house  on  that  side  stood  so  close  to  the 
edge  of  a  quarry  that  no  one  could  do  more 
than  find  standing  room.  Close  by  the  window 
was  a  water-pipe  running  from  the  sheeting  of 
the  roof  down  to  the  bottom  part  of  the  house. 

"I  could  climb  down  that,  and  get  away  to 
the  Coast  Guard,  and  give  the  alarm,"  Maurice 
said  to  himself;  but  he  shuddered  at  the  possi- 
bilities. Suppose  the  water-pipe  would  not 
support  his  weight,  and  broke  away,  and  he 
fell?  His  body  would  be  broken,  for  he  would 
fall  down  into  the  quarry,  where  everything 
was  black  and  forbidding.  It  might  easily 
mean  death. 

But  he  had  to  think  of  others,  and  not  of 
himself.  There  was  the  call  of  his  country; 
the  appeal  to  his  patriotism;  the  country's 
danger  in  war  time,  now  that  she  was  betrayed 
by  that  traitor  who  had  sold  his  honor  and  his 
countrymen  for  money!  And  there  were  men 
and  women  of  the  countryside,  near  the  sea, 
the  farmsteads  and  villages  on  the  coast — all 
at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.  It  was  terrible  to 
think  of. 


52  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

He  felt  that  he  must  take  the  risks  for  the 
sake  of  those  who  were  being  so  shamefully 
betrayed.  He  must  play  the  game !  Yes,  and 
he  would  play  it,  whatever  the  consequences, 
rather  than  allow  those  gun-runners  to  land 
their  arms  unhindered. 

Standing  at  the  window,  Maurice  tried  to 
plan  out  his  course.  Suppose  that  he  succeeded 
in  getting  down  the  water-pipe,  there  was  surely 
some  way  down  into  the  quarry.  The  moon 
would  show  him  where  to  go,  and  what  to  do 
with  his  hands  and  feet. 

He  thought  the  thing  out  thoroughly  and 
quickly,  and  then,  to  cover  his  retreat,  as  he 
put  it  to  himself,  he  crossed  to  the  door,  which, 
by  the  aid  of  the  moonlight,  he  saw  had  an 
inside  bolt,  and  perhaps  might  have  more.  But 
there  was  only  one,  and  when  he  drove  it  into 
its  socket  softly,  he  returned  to  the  window  on 
tiptoe  and  climbed  on  the  sill. 

It  called  for  all  his  nerve  to  grip  the  water- 
pipe  and  trust  his  weight  to  it,  but  it  was  his 
only  course  if  he  would  give  the  warning,  and 
prevent  the  Germans  from  carrying  out  their 
scheme.  Clutching  at  the  pipe,  he  began  his 
descent,  feeling  his  finger-nails  scraping  against 
the  wall,  and  the  skin  at  his  knees  being  torn 
as  he  gripped  the  pipe  with  them;  but  he 
ignored  all  that  in  his  determination  to  get 
away  and  give  warning.  At  last  his  feet 
touched  something  solid,  and  glancing  down- 
wards, he  found  that  he  had  landed  on  the  top 
edge  of  the  quarry. 


THE  GUN-RUNNERS  53 

At  that  moment  he  heard  a  window  open 
noisily,  and  looking  up,  saw  a  man's  head 
appear.  A  cry  and  an  oath  followed. 

"He's  getting  away!  He's  on  the  quarry 
edge,"  the  man  cried;  and  three  other  heads 
were  thrust  out  of  the  window. 

Maurice  moved  along  the  edge  slowly  and 
carefully,  reaching  a  spot  on  the  other  side  of 
the  house,  being  now  out  of  the  sight  of  the 
men.  As  for  himself,  he  still  had  that  quarry 
to  consider,  and  he  saw  that  there  was  no  other 
way  of  escape  but  down  its  dangerous  paths, 
supposing  there  were  any.  The  ledge  itself 
was  not  more  than  a  foot  wide  where  he  stood, 
and  it  narrowed  off  till  it  came  to  nothing. 


IV 

AN  EXCITING  CHASE 

MAURICE  stood  to  consider  the  question 
of  descending  into  the  quarry.  Was  it 
possible?  He  thought  he  could  get 
down  if  not  hurried,  but  there  was  the  fear  lest 
the  men  in  the  house  should  anticipate  his  doing 
this,  and  would  be  waiting  for  him.  He  half 
determined  to  remain  where  he  was  till  morn- 
ing, when  the  quarrymen  would  come  to  their 
work  and  see  him ;  but  he  thought  of  the  possi- 
bilities. The  gun-runners  would  have  time  to 
land  their  stores,  the  mischief  would  be  done, 
and  havoc,  and  loss  of  life,  and  distress  for  the 
unprotected  were  sure  to  follow. 

' 'It's  my  duty  to  make  the  venture,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  may  save  the  situation.  Not  only 
so,  I  have  not  yet  delivered  the  dispatch,  and 
I  was  told  that  the  consequences,  if  I  failed, 
would  be  serious." 

He  watched  to  see  whether  the  moon  was 
likely  to  serve  him  during  his  climb  down  the 
quarry-side,  and  he  saw  that  the  sky  was  clear- 
ing, for  the  clouds  were  moving  away  swiftly. 

He  started  at  once,  dropping  off  the  first 
ledge  to  one  below,  and  from  that  to  another. 
It  was  the  first  bit  of  quarry-climbing  he  had 
ever  done,  and  he  discovered  the  difficulty  and 

54 


AN  EXCITING  CHASE  55 

the  danger  of  it.  Sometimes  he  had  about 
three  or  four  inches  to  rest  his  foot  on;  some- 
times a  yard  or  more;  but  he  kept  his  head, 
and  was  on  the  move  all  the  time,  occasionally 
glancing  below  to  see  whether  there  were  any 
signs  of  his  jailers. 

So  far  they  had  not  shown  themselves,  and  he 
wondered  whether  they  thought  Maurice  so 
thoroughly  trapped  on  the  treacherous  ledge  of 
rock  that  they  had  gone  away  to  hurry  on  the 
gun-runners,  intending  later  to  get  to  him  and 
carry  him  back  to  his  prison. 

He  was  startled  by  a  sound  above  him,  and 
glancing  up  to  see  what  it  meant,  he  saw  two 
men  leaning  out  of  the  window.  That  he  did 
not  mind,  at  first ;  but  he  thrilled  at  the  thought 
that  they  might  use  their  revolvers  on  him,  and 
come  round  to  the  quarry  to  carry  his  dead  or 
maimed  body  away.  Before  he  had  dropped 
off  that  ledge  to  the  lower  he  understood  their 
intention.  One  of  the  men  dropped  a  rope,  and 
did  it  with  such  skill  that  he  felt  the  scrape  of 
it  on  his  hands.  It  had  a  noose  in  it,  and  he 
knew  that  they  were  hoping  to  get  the  noose 
about  his  body  and,  moving  swiftly,  haul  him 
up  to  the  window. 

He  breathed  with  relief  when  he  found  that 
they  failed,  but  the  man  pulled  up  the  rope 
swiftly,  and  dropped  it  again  while  he  was 
moving  along  a  foot-wide  ledge  carefully,  and 
this  time  it  fell  over  his  head  and  shoulders, 
and  being  drawn  up  swiftly,  it  was  tightened 
about  him  like  a  snake  twining  round  the  body 


56  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

of  a  victim.  He  felt  the  grip  of  it  pinching 
under  his  arms,  and  the  pain  brought  a  cry  to 
his  lips.  He  felt  that  he  was  lost,  for  they 
were  beginning  to  haul  him  up  bodily,  and  were 
laughing  when  they  saw  him  dragged  up  from 
that  ledge  to  the  one  above. 

But  his  quick  wit  saved  him.  He  had  his 
knife  at  his  belt,  and  opening  it  swiftly,  waited 
his  time.  It  would  never  do  to  cut  it  while  he 
was  half-way  up  to  the  next  ledge,  since  that 
would  mean  a  fearful  fall,  a  broken  body,  per- 
haps a  life-long  maiming,  if  not  death.  The 
moment  he  found  his  feet  touching  the  ledge  he 
slashed  at  the  rope,  and  the  first  cut  severed 
it  and  left  him  free. 

He  dropped  to  the  next  ledge  swiftly,  took 
infinite  risks  and  got  yet  lower,  and  lower  still, 
until  he  knew  that  no  rope  could  reach  him 
where  he  was. 

After  that  he  had  to  go  more  warily,  and  the 
descent  seemed  more  perilous  than  before; 
which  meant  that  he  was  a  long  time  descend- 
ing, in  spite  of  his  agility.  But,  after  taking 
many  risks,  he  had  but  half  a  dozen  yards  to  go, 
and  although  the  remaining  bit  of  climbing 
down  was  dangerous,  he  took  the  risks.  After 
a  nasty  drop  on  some  unseen  crowbars  and 
other  tools,  he  stood  in  the  quarry,  among  some 
carts  which  were  standing  with  their  shafts  in 
the  air.  He  was  feeling  grateful  that  he  was 
clear,  and  that  now  he  had  but  to  be  wary,  and 
he  could  give  the  alarm  in  this  life  and  death 
affair. 


AN  EXCITING  CHASE  57 

While  he  was  pulling  his  clothes  into  place, 
before  starting  on  this  fateful  errand,  he 
heard  a  man's  voice  behind  the  carts.  Then 
came  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  both  sides  of 
him. 

"I'm  trapped!"  he  thought,  when  two  men 
appeared  on  either  hand ;  but  he  was  Scout-like 
in  his  alertness.  There  was  barely  room  to  do 
it,  but  urged  on  by  the  desperate  position  in 
which  he  found  himself,  he  sprang  on  the  box 
of  the  wheel  of  one  of  the  carts,  and  dropped  on 
the  other  side  by  the  cart's  tail.  He  was  free 
to  move,  and  he  bounded  forward  into  the  open, 
anywhere  for  the  moment,  to  get  away  from  the 
men  who  were  coming  after  him. 

In  the  moonlight  he  saw  a  rutted  road,  which 
led  out  of  the  quarry,  and  racing  away  with  all 
speed,  but  careful  to  see  where  he  went,  not  to 
fall,  he  found  himself  nearing  the  exit.  Behind 
were  the  men,  cursing  and  hurling  stones  to 
lame  and  floor  him.  Some  rattled  past;  some 
fell  short;  some  landed  so  close  that  the  water 
in  the  ruts  into  which  they  splashed  flew  up  and 
bespattered  him.  All  this  made  him  plunge  on 
more  than  ever,  to  escape  an  unlucky  blow,  but 
at  last  disaster  came.  The  road  was  in 
shadow,  and  he  did  not  see  a  cart  in  the  way, 
the  shafts  lying  down.  A  cry  escaped  him 
when  he  found  himself  caught  at  the  feet,  and. 
falling  across  the  shaft.  His  hands  were  cut 
in  the  fall  on  the  stones,  and  his  knees  were 
chafed  and  stinging  with  pain;  nor  was  that 
all.  He  had  struck  his  head  against  something, 


58  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

and  he  felt  a  warm  trickling  down  his  forehead 
into  one  of  his  eyes. 

It  was  no  time  for  bewailing  his  mishap,  or 
thinking  of  the  pain.  What  possessed  him  was 
the  thought  of  the  gun-runners,  and  the  deter- 
mination of  the  men  who  were  in  pursuit  to  stop 
him  from  giving  the  alarm.  He  sprang  up 
hearing  heavy  feet  on  the  stony  path  not  far 
behind.  He  could  not  help  hoping  that  the 
unseen  shafts  would  be  a  snare  to  his  pursuers, 
and  he  made  a  fresh  spurt  to  atone  for  lost 
time. 

Once  outside  the  quarry  he  slowed  down  to 
take  in  his  bearings,  for  he  did  not  know  how 
the  quarry  lay  after  coming  along  that  winding 
road  out  of  it.  The  sounds  of  the  men  appeared 
to  be  far  behind,  and  now  the  pain  he  felt  com- 
pelled attention.  His  fingers  were  skinned  with 
the  climb  down  the  water-pipe;  his  knees  were 
smarting,  and  his  forehead  bled  so  freely  that 
he  was  obliged  to  bind  his  handkerchief  round 
his  head  to  stay  the  flow  of  blood. 

The  sounds  of  pursuit  died  away,  and  he 
leaned  against  a  field  gate  to  think  out  a  plan. 
It  seemed  to  him,  in  view  of  what  was  to  be 
attempted  by  the  gun-runners,  that  he  ought  to 
find  a  Coast  Guard  Station  and  give  warning, 
since  one  of  the  duties  of  the  Coast  Guard  was 
to  stop  the  introduction  of  arms,  or  dynamite, 
or  anything  in  the  shape  of  war  material. 

Before  many  moments  had  gone,  and  before 
he  quite  decided  in  what  direction  to  go,  he  was 
astounded  to  see,  on  the  highway  he  thought 


AN  EXCITING  CHASE  59 

he  would  have  to  travel,  two  men  come  out  of 
the  darkness  of  a  hedge,  not  far  away,  into  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  look  about  in  all  direc- 
tions. Would  they  see  him! 

He  knew  that  his  escape  along  that  road  was 
cut  off,  and  he  wondered  where  the  other 
two  men  were.  Somewhere  not  far  away,  he 
was  sure,  since  so  much  depended  on  his  cap- 
ture. 

The  only  way  to  get  clear  was  to  climb  the 
gate,  for  when  he  tried  to  open  it  he  found  it 
chained  and  locked.  At  another  time  he  would 
have  vaulted  it  with  ease,  but  not  now.  He 
began  to  climb,  but  what  pain  it  was!  He 
struck  his  knee  against  one  of  the  bars,  and 
gasped,  but  when  he  stood  and  balanced  himself 
on  the  top  bar,  the  men  saw  him,  and  came  for 
him  with  a  shout. 

Jumping  into  the  field,  and  going  for  all  he 
was  worth,  although  it  was  full  of  lumps,  he 
reached  the  hedge  on  the  other  side.  In  the 
full  light  of  the  moon  he  ran  along  the  hedge 
side,  looking  for  a  place  to  crawl  through,  but 
the  men  had  divined  his  intention,  and  were 
trying  to  cut  him  off.  Maurice  swung  round 
and  raced  back  in  the  opposite  direction, 
climbed  over  a  gate,  and  ran  on. 

When  he  came  to  a  bit  of  copse  the  men  were 
not  in  sight.  Near  by  was  a  pond  which  threat- 
ened to  bar  his  way,  and  would  compel  him  to 
go  round.  It  meant  loss  of  time,  and  risk  of 
capture.  What  should  he  do  ?  Should  he  drop 
into  the  pond,  and  hide  among  the  rushes  which 


60  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

were  in  deep  shadow  because  of  the  heavy 
foliage  on  the  trees  which  overhung  the  water? 
He  hesitated,  but  turning,  saw  the  men  climbing 
the  gate.  They  seemed  to  guess  that  he  would 
take  his  way  through  the  copse,  not  knowing  of 
the  pond,  perhaps,  and  they  chose  it  for  them- 
selves, to  Maurice's  consternation. 

He  looked  at  the  water.  It  was  black,  and  full 
of  everything  nasty  that  could  be  found  in  a 
stagnant  pool;  but  what  of  that?  He  might 
hide  there,  and  be  unseen ;  then,  if  the  men  gave 
up  the  search,  or  missed  him,  and-  went  farther 
afield,  he  would  still  have  time  to  give  the  alarm 
and  cut  off  the  gun-runners.  He  slid  down  the 
sloping  bank,  not  knowing  how  deep  it  was,  and 
the  cold  water  came  up  and  up  till  he  felt  it 
about  his  waist.  He  waded  on,  ready  for  an 
unexpected  plunge  into  a  possible  hole,  until  he 
reached  the  rushes,  and  once  amid  such  black- 
ness, he  hoped  that  he  was  safe. 

He  waited.  At  first  it  seemed  pleasant,  for 
the  water  got  at  his  burning  knees  and  cooled 
and  soothed  them;  but  the  cold,  after  a  while, 
seemed  to  strike  into  his  bones,  and  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  keep  his  teeth  from  chattering. 

The  men  were  approaching,  and  their  voices, 
distant  at  first,  grew  louder,  and  then  he  knew 
that  they  were  in  the  copse. 

"He  wouldn't  stay  here,"  said  one. 

"I'll  strike  a  match  and  see,"  said  another; 
and  a  light  lit  up  the  copse.  Maurice  saw  the 
men's  faces  as  the  red  glow  of  the  burning 
match  fell  on  them,  and  he  saw  how  they  peered 


AN  EXCITING  CHASE  61 

about  when  match  after  match  was  struck.  The 
light  showed  them  the  green  surface  of  the 
pond,  but  at  last  they  concluded  that  he  was 
gone  into  the  road  beyond. 

When  the  men  left,  and  he  was  alone  again, 
Maurice  crawled  out,  and  taking  the  shadows 
wherever  possible,  came  to  the  open  country. 
The  sea  was  on  his  right,  and  he  knew  then 
the  direction  he  must  take.  Forgetful  of  pain, 
and  weariness,  and  hunger,  thinking  only  of 
duty,  and  of  the  necessity  for  his  warning,  he 
moved  as  though  he  had  nothing  but  distance 
to  contend  with.  On  and  on  he  went,  until  he 
came  to  a  great  square  wooden  building,  a  hun- 
dred yards  back  from  the  sea  cliffs.  There  was 
no  light  anywhere,  but  by  the  moon  he  saw,  to 
his  delight,  the  flagstaff  on  which  the  White 
Ensign  was  flying,  and  knew  it  to  be  a  Coast 
Guard  Station. 

When  a  blue-jacket  on  sentry  challenged  him, 
he  stopped  and  told  his  story. 

"I'll  call  the  guard,"  the  sentry  said,  when 
he  had  whistled  in  surprise.  "I  dare  not  leave 
my  post.  Sit  there,  Scout,  until  somebody 
comes." 

Before  many  moments  had  gone  an  officer 
and  three  armed  sailors  came  on  at  the  double, 
in  answer  to  the  sentry's  call. 

"What's  wrong,  Kershaw?"  the  officer  asked. 

"This  yer  Scout  says  as  there's  some  gun- 
running  to  come  off  in  James's  Creek  at  mid- 
night, sir." 

"Ah!"    exclaimed    the    officer,    turning    to 


62  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Maurice,  who  was  sitting  on  a  bowlder,  utterly 
worn  out.     " Tell  me  all  you  know." 

Maurice  told  the  story  tersely,  and  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  a  strong  force  of  armed 
men  were  moving  swiftly  in  the  direction  of 
James's  Creek.  The  officer  lingered  a  moment 
or  two  to  speak  to  Maurice. 

"You  seem  fairly  done  up,  and  it's  a  couple 
of  miles  farther  to  the  camp  where  you  have  to 
take  your  message.  Let  me  send  a  man  on 
with  it,  while  you  go  to  the  station  and  eat 
and  rest. ' ' 

"I  must  not  do  that,  sir.  My  orders  were  to 
give  the  dispatch  into  Captain  Drayton's  hands, 
and  deliver  a  verbal  message  as  well." 

4 'Then  I'll  send  a  man  with  you  to  show  you 
the  way.  It  may  save  you  from  getting  into 
any  mischief,  for  I  am  certain  there  are  a 
number  of  Germans  about,  rascals  who  ought 
to  be  interned  and  aren't,  and  the  presence  of 
a  Scout  may  make  them  think  he  means  busi- 
ness not  to  their  own  liking." 

He  blew  a  whistle,  and  a  sailor  ran  up, 
saluting  as  he  came  to  a  standstill. 

4  *  Take  this  young  fellow  to  Captain  Drayton, 
and  see  that  he  comes  to  no  harm.  Take  his 
pace,  for  he  has  been  in  difficulties,  and  is  pretty 
well  hurt,"  said  the  officer  kindly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  sailor,  saluting;  and  in 
half  an  hour,  by  taking  short  cuts,  Maurice  had 
discharged  his  errand. 

"Go  and  lie  down  there,  on  that  camp  bed- 
stead, and  have  a  good  rest,  when  they  Ve  given 


AN  EXCITING  CHASE  63 

you  something  to  eat,"  said  the  Captain  kindly, 
after  reading  the  dispatch,  and  giving  some  im- 
portant orders.  What  Maurice  heard  and  saw 
showed  him  that  his  errand  was  more  pressing 
than  he  had  supposed.  "I  mean  to  report  your 
service,"  he  said  approvingly.  "It  was  finely 
rendered. ' ' 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  Maurice  awoke, 
and  he  heard  some  loud  cheering. 

"What's  up!"  he  asked  of  an  orderly  who 
came  in  to  see  how  he  was  getting  on. 

"Something  fine,  an'  no  mistake,"  the  soldier 
answered,  his  face  broad  with  smiles.  "They 
caught  that  ship,  an'  the  fellows  what  you  spoke 
about — the  whole  blessed  lot  of  'em — an*  to- 
morrow there'll  be  some  shootin'  of  traitors. 
The  Government  ought  to  give  you  a  medal  for 
this,"  said  the  man,  hurrying  out  to  know  what 
more  there  was  to  hear. 

Maurice  called  after  him,  and  the  soldier 
halted  at  the  door. 

"Did  they  find  the  house  with  all  the  guns 
and  ammunition  in  it,  by  the  quarry!" 

"Rather!"  said  the  man,  with  a  grin;  and 
with  that  he  walked  away. 


V 

THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE 

MAURICE  was  rendering  splendid  service 
as  a  Scout,  but  he  was  impatient  to 
play  a  more  important  part  in  the  war, 
and  come  into  touch  with  the  enemy.  He  had 
a  horror  of  being  thought  a  "slacker,"  and  as 
he  was  such  a  big  fellow,  looking  more  than 
eighteen,  he  wondered  what  he  should  do  if 
some  young  lady  came  up  to  him  and  presented 
him  with  a  white  feather.  Apart  from  that,  he 
became  still  more  eager  when  he  read  the  ap- 
peals for  recruits  on  the  great  bill-posting 
stations,  and  one  of  them  especially  appealed 
to  him. 

YOUR  COUNTRY  WANTS 

YOU, 

AND  300,000  MORE  MEN  LIKE  YOU. 
DON'T  WAIT,  BUT  JOIN  NOW. 

"I've  got  to  wait  another  six  months,"  said 
Maurice  discontentedly,  as  he  stood  and  read 
the  great  poster.  "Yet  think  what  a  great 
fellow  I  ami  Look  at  that  chap,  and  I'm  a 
head  taller  than  he!  And  he's  in  khaki  I  I'll 

64 


THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE  65 

go  and  talk  to  father,  and  see  if  I  can  persuade 
him  at  least  to  let  me  try.  It's  possible  that 
I  may  slip  through." 

He  found  father  busy  at  his  table,  writing, 
but  the  moment  Maurice  stood  in  the  door- 
way, his  father  saw  that  he  had  come  to  talk 
on  something  important,  and  his  pen  went 
down. 

"Anything  wrong?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 

4 '  No,  father,  not  at  present. ' '  Then  Maurice 
went  straight  to  the  business  on  hand. 

"The  Government  says  it  wants  three  hun- 
dred thousand  more  men." 

"I  know  it,  and  it  is  getting  them." 

"But  not  as  many  as  it  should  get.  I've 
been  out  on  Scout  duty  all  day,  and  whichever 
way  I  turn  there  are  slackers ;  fellows  who  care 
more  for  their  own  skins  than  their  country's 
welfare,  and  they  aren't  playing  the  game.  I 
would,  if  I  had  the  chance." 

"You  are  doing  it  every  day,  my  boy.  This 
Scout  work  means  very  real  service." 

"Yes,  I  know,  father.  But  men  are  wanted 
at  the  front,  and  I  ought  to  be  there.  You  don't 
know  what  was  said  at  the  Recruiting  Meeting 
the  night  before  last.  There  was  a  boy  in  the 
crowd  at  a  ship  launch,  and  the  men  who  were 
pulling  at  the  ropes  couldn't  get  the  ship  to 
budge,  and  were  going  to  give  up.  Then  the 
youngster  came,  pulled  off  his  coat,  and  tucked 
up  his  shirt-sleeves.  The  people  who  were  look- 
ing on  laughed. 

"  'What  do   you   think  you   can  do,   little 


66  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

whipper-snapper?'  asked  one  of  the  men  who 
had  been  pulling  at  the  ropes. 

"  'I  can  pull  a  pound,'  was  the  answer;  and 
the  men  called  out  that  he  should  have  his 
chance.  They  picked  up  the  ropes  again;  the 
boy  did  his  share,  pulled  his  pound,  and  the 
ship  went  swinging  down  into  the  water. 
They  want  men,  father,  and  I  can  pull  my 
pound. ' ' 

Maurice  was  looking  at  his  father  across  the 
table,  and  his  face  was  full  of  eagerness. 

"Soldiers  run  tremendous  risks,"  said  Mr. 
Millard  quietly. 

"I  wouldn't  shirk  them,  father." 

"It  means  tiredness,  worn-out-ness,  march- 
ing until  your  feet  are  blistered,  and  work  until 
every  bone  in  your  body  aches." 

"I  can  take  my  share  with  the  rest,  since  it 
has  to  be  done  by  somebody,  father." 

"It  means  the  chance  of  wounds,  my  boy." 

"I  don't  mind  if  I'm  doing  my  duty." 

"It  means  the  risk  of  death." 

"I'd  be  ready  to  die  for  my  country,  father, 
like  the  others." 

' '  Then  go,  my  boy,  and  do  your  share ;  but  I 
want  to  put  you  on  your  honor.  You  are  not 
eighteen  yet,  and  if  they  ask  your  age  at  the 
Eecruiting  Office,  you  must  tell  them  exactly 
how  old  you  are." 

"I'll  tell  the  truth,  father.  While  I  should 
dearly  like  to  get  into  our  Army,  for  I  don't 
want  to  be  among  the  shirkers,  I  won't  deceive 
them.  Shall  I  go  now?" 


THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE  67 

Mr.  Millard  looked  at  his  watch. 

"They  close  in  half  an  hour,  and  it  will  take 
nearly  fifteen  minutes  to  get  there.  Suppose 
you  wait  till  to-morrow?" 

"I'd  rather  go  now,  father;"  and  saluting, 
as  his  custom  was  with  his  father,  Maurice 
hurried  out  of  the  room,  and  before  many 
moments  had  gone  Mr.  Millard  heard  the  front 
door  close,  and  then  a  boy's  swift  feet  on  the 
pavement. 

The  Eecruiting  Office  was  still  open  when 
Maurice  entered,  and  those  who  saw  him  step 
up  to  the  table  thought  what  a  fine  recruit  he 
would  make.  He  looked  the  age  required — 
eighteen;  but  they  were  disappointed  when  he 
answered  the  question  as  to  age. 

"I'm  only  seventeen  and  a  half,  sir." 

"What  a  pity,"  said  the  presiding  officer. 
"Eighteen  is  the  limit." 

A  look  of  disappointment  swept  across 
Maurice's  face. 

"I'm  big  enough  for  eighteen,"  he  exclaimed 
impulsively.  "I've  strength  enough  for  a  sol- 
dier. I've  been  a  Scout  for  a  long  time  and  am 
a  Patrol  Leader.  And  what  is  more,  I've  been 
doing  duty  for  the  Coast  Guard  on  the  East 
Coast." 

"What  is  your  name!"  the  officer  inter- 
rupted. 

"Maurice  Millard." 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and 
those  who  were  at  the  table  sat  up  more  alert 
than  before. 


68  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Are  you  the  Scout  who  gave  notice  of  the 
gun-running  the  other  night?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

' '  It  was  a  fine  bit  of  work,  my  boy,  and  if  all 
your  work  has  been  like  it " 

The  officer  broke  off  and  pointed  to  Maurice's 
breast. 

"That's  the  Bronze  Medal,  and  you  must 
have  won  it,  or  you  would  not  be  wearing  it." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Maurice,  his  face  coloring. 

The  officer  looked  at  those  who  sat  at  the 
table  with  him. 

"Suppose  you  leave  the  room  for  a  few 
minutes,"  he  said  quietly.  "The  sergeant  shall 
call  you  in  when  we  have  talked  your  case 
over." 

Maurice  was  turning  to  go  out  when  an  idea 
occurred  to  him,  which  he  thought  might 
strengthen  his  application,  for  he  was  in  dead 
earnest. 

"I  was  in  the  Cadet  Corps  at  Ellingham — a 
sergeant,  sir,  so  that  I  know  all  the  drill,"  he 
exclaimed  eagerly. 

The  officer's  eyes  gleamed,  and  he  nodded  for 
Maurice  to  go.  Maurice  walked  about  outside, 
full  of  anxiety.  He  read  the  recruiting  posters, 
and  was  eager  not  to  be  a  slacker  who  cared 
more  for  his  skin  than  his  country's  honor. 
But  with  him  there  was  something  more  than 
an  appeal  to  be  a  soldier.  He  wanted  to  take 
his  share  in  the  generous  endeavor  to  drive 
the  Germans  out  of  Belgium,  and  give  those 
ruined  people  their  homes  and  country  again. 


THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE  69 

He  wanted  to  take  his  place  in  the  stand  for 
right  against  Germany's  cruel  policy  with  a 
weak  nation,  and  although  it  meant  self -sacri- 
fice like  a  true  soldier  he  was  ready  for  it. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  a  long  time 
talking  his  case  over  in  the  office.  The  hour 
when  they  usually  closed  was  past,  and  still  the 
sergeant  did  not  come.  Did  they  mean  to  refuse 
him ;  to  put  him  back  for  six  whole  months  ?  but 
still  he  had  told  the  truth,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing on  his  conscience. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  the  sergeant, 
standing  in  the  doorway,  beckoned  to  him. 
Maurice  crossed  to  him  in  quick  strides,  won- 
dering what  he  was  going  to  hear. 

"Is  it  all  right?"  he  asked  the  old  soldier. 

"Wait  and  see,"  said  the  sergeant,  with  a 
chuckle  at  his  joke.  "Now,  then,  in  you  gol" 
And  Maurice  felt  the  man's  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  giving  him  a  push. 

"Maurice  Millard,  your  age  is  against  you, 
but  your  service  is  all  in  your  favor,"  said  the 
officer.  "We  have  talked  things  over.  By  the 
time  you  have  gone  through  your  training  and 
qualified  for  service  at  the  front  you  will  be 
eighteen.  Will  that  suit  you!" 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  shall  be," 
Maurice  cried.  "I  want  to  do  my  bit,  sir.  I 
want  to  do  what  you  spoke  of  at  the  Eecruiting 
Meeting — I  want  to  pull  my  pound." 

The  men  at  the  table  roared  with  laughter. 

"You  will  pull  sixteen  ounces  to  the  pound, 
I  am  sure,"  said  the  officer,  still  laughing. 


70  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Well,  report  yourself  to-morrow.  The  ser- 
geant there  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  If  you 
make  as  fine  a  soldier  as  you  have  made  a 
Scout,  you  ought  to  come  out  on  top." 

"Field  Marshal,"  said  one  of  the  men  at  the 
table;  and  Maurice  went  out  of  the  room,  his 
face  in  a  glow,  and  his  heart  beating  with 
pleasure  at  the  thought  that  he  was  to  serve 
his  country  and  do  his  bit. 

Maurice  went  into  training,  but  a  great  sur- 
prise was  in  store  for  him  one  morning  when 
the  Commanding  Officer  sent  for  him. 

"Millard,  there  has  been  a  call  for  Scouts  at 
the  front,  and  you  have  put  your  soul  so  thor- 
oughly into  the  work  that  I  have  named  you  for 
one  of  them.  Will  you  go  I " 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  ready  answer.  Maurice 
felt  his  heart  leap  with  satisfaction.  "When 
do  I  start?" 

' '  This  is  Monday.  You  must  be  on  your  way 
to  the  sea  port  on  Wednesday  morning,  by 
the  11.25.  I  will  see  to  your  kit  being  ready, 
and  am  sure,  from  what  I  have  seen  of  you,  that 
you  will  not  disappoint  me,  and  make  me  wish 
I  had  sent  someone  else.  You  can  have  leave 
to  gb  home  and  say  'Good-by.'  Start  at  once. 
There 's  a  train  in  an  hour  from  now. ' ' 

It  was,  perhaps,  an  unusual  thing  for  an 
officer  to  do,  but  he  shook  Maurice  by  the  hand 
warmly. 

"My  boy,  that  Bronze  Medal  of  which  I  have 
heard  speaks  much  for  your  fine  spirit.  All 
J  Jiave  heard  of  you  tells  me  that  you  count 


THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE  71 

honor  and  duty  as  great  things.  I'm  not  going 
to  preach  to  you,  Millard,  but  you  will  be  going 
among  all  sorts  of  men,  and  you  will  meet  with 
all  sorts  of  temptations;  but  keep  your  mind 
and  your  heart  clean.  Don 't  let  your  character 
be  smirched.  I  feel  sure  you  will  be  loyal  to 
God  as  well  as  to  your  Government." 

1 '  I  will  do  my  best,  sir, ' '  said  Maurice,  and  a 
moment  later  he  was  gone. 

"Where's  father,  mother?"  Maurice  asked, 
as  soon  as  he  had  told  her  he  was  to  go  to  the 
front  at  once. 

"Gone  to  France  to  look  after  Marjorie," 
said  his  mother,  whose  heart  beat  with  anxiety, 
as  well  as  pride,  when  she  heard  that  Maurice 
was  to  start  on  Wednesday. 

"Is  Marjorie  in  any  danger?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"We  can't  say.  We  have  written  again  and 
again,  and  no  answers  have  come.  Because  our 
anxiety  is  so  great  your  father  has  obtained 
permission  to  go  to  France  to  look  for  her." 

Maurice  noticed  how  his  mother's  lips 
trembled,  and  her  eyes  gleamed.  He  put  his 
arms  about  her  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"Mother,  I'll  see  if  I  can  find  her,  for  I  have 
some  scouting  to  do,  and  it  may  take  me  to  all 
sorts  of  places." 

He  said  that  to  comfort  his  mother,  but  his 
own  heart  was  gripped  by  a  certain  fear,  for  it 
was  common  talk  now  that  the  Germans  were 
merciless  wherever  they  went,  and  Marjorie, 


72  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

whom  he  loved  so  dearly,  may  have  got  into 
their  hands.  What  might  she  be  enduring — if 
she  was  alive  1 

He  shuddered  at  the  thought,  but  was  care- 
ful to  speak  encouragingly  to  his  mother,  who 
was  consumed  with  anxiety. 

But  how  swiftly  those  hours  passed — from 
the  Monday  night  to  the  Wednesday  morning ! 
They  were  the  quickest  Maurice  had  ever 
known,  and  eager  though  he  was  to  be  fighting 
at  the  front,  he  was  pained  at  the  thought  of 
saying  "Good-by"  to  the  little  mother  whom  he 
loved  so  dearly;  and  he  would  have  given  a 
great  deal  to  have  had  a  handshake  from  his 
father. 

A  long  telegram  came  an  hour  before  Maurice 
had  to  start.  It  was  from  his  father  in  answer 
to  one  Maurice's  mother  had  sent  to  her  hus- 
band to  tell  him  that  their  boy  was  ordered  out 
to  France  at  short  notice. 


. . 


'Hear  that  Marjorie  is  safe  somewhere. 
Sorry  not  to  grip  your  hand,  my  boy ;  but  I  know 
you  will  play  the  game.  There  is  room  for  it 
here.  Keep  in  touch  with  God,  and  all  that  is 
manly.  God  go  with  you.  Your  father's  best 
love." 

It  was  a  long  telegram,  and  Maurice  felt  the 
hot  tears  come  to  his  eyes  as  he  read  it,  and  a 
strained  feeling  at  the  top  of  his  throat.  He 
would  not  disappoint  his  father. 

When  he  came  out  of  his  room,  ready  to  start, 
his  mother  stood  in  her  own  doorway. 


THE  RECRUITING  OFFICE  73 

"My  dear,  I  want  you,"  she  said,  and  she 
drew  him  into  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 

"What  is  it,  little  mother?"  he  asked  affec- 
tionately, and  there  was  a  pang  when  he  saw 
signs  of  tears  on  her  face,  although  she  thought 
she  had  wiped  them  quite  away.  He  knew  she 
was  trying  to  smile,  not  to  send  him  away 
downhearted. 

"I  want  to  say  exactly  what  your  father  said 
in  his  telegram,  my  dear.  And  I  want  to  give 
you  a  keepsake — something  I  value  greatly; 
something  I  used  when  I  was  a  girl  at  school." 

She  took  her  little  pocket  Bible  from  the 
table,  and  held  it  out  for  Maurice. 

"I  want  you  to  take  it,  to  treasure  it,  and 
read  it,  and  to  stand  by  what  it  says.  Will 
you?" 

Maurice  took  it  from  her  trembling  hands, 
and  throwing  his  arms  about  her,  he  kissed  her 
again  and  again. 

"Mother,  I'll  never  part  with  it.  I'll 
treasure  it  as  something  sacred  because  it 
comes  from  you.  But  it's  time,  dear  little 
mother.  I  must  go.  Good-by." 

He  turned  away  with  the  Bible  in  his  hand, 
caught  up  his  kit-bag,  and  without  looking 
round,  went,  he  did  not  know  how,  out  of  the 
house,  and  down  the  street  towards  the  station. 
As  soon  as  he  had  turned  the  corner  out  of 
sight,  his  mother  went  from  the  window,  and, 
dropping  on  her  knees  at  the  table,  prayed  that 
God  would  shield  him  and  bring  him  and  his 
sister  safely  back  to  her. 


VI 
THE  BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT 

DURING   the   months   of   hard  training 
Maurice  had  gone  in  heart  and  soul  for 
First  Aid,  of  which  he  had  already  done 
a  great  deal  during  his  Scout  practice ;  but  his 
idea  was  that  when  he  was  at  the  front  he  might 
find  it  useful  beyond  all  that  had  yet  come  into 
his  experience. 

It  was  not  luck  which  made  him  get  on,  but 
downright  hard  work;  a  determination  not  to 
be  Number  Two  if  he  could  be  Number  One  by 
work.  The  officer  who  called  after  him  as  he 
left  the  Recruiting  Room,  "Mind  you  come 
home  a  Field  Marshal,  Millard!"  was  not 
laughing  at  him,  but  he  saw  the  sort  of  fellow 
Maurice  was,  and  that  he  possessed  so  much 
grit  that  he  would  not  be  content  just  to  rub 
along,  but  would  use  every  opportunity  for 
rising  in  the  ranks. 

Maurice  had  not  been  at  the  base  in  France 
many  hours  before  a  case  of  First  Aid  offered 
for  a  soldier  who  had  been  knocked  down  by 
one  of  the  ambulance  vans ;  and  since  no  doctor 
or  nurse  was  near  at  the  moment,  Maurice  set 
the  poor  Tommy's  broken  leg,  and  did  it  so  well 
that  the  surgeon  who  came  along  after  a  time 
did  not  need  to  make  any  changes,  and  told  him 

74 


BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT       75 

lie  was  a  born  doctor,  and  ought  to  go  in  for 
surgery. 

" Shall  we  get  the  war  through  first,  sir?" 
Maurice  asked  pleasantly. 

The  other  realities  of  war  came  on  him  very 
swiftly.  By  the  time  he  was  at  the  front  he 
was  so  light  of  foot,  and  so  ready,  that  the 
officer  in  command  of  the  battalion  made  use  of 
him  freely,  and  his  errands  often  brought  him 
into  a  very  real  danger  zone.  At  first  he  was 
dazed  with  the  clamor,  but  he  got  used  to  it, 
and  moved  about,  where  his  work  and  duty 
called  him,  amid  the  noise  of  screaming  bullets, 
the  bursting  of  grenades  and  shells,  shirking 
nothing. 

The  first  message  from  the  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  of  the  battalion  was  comparatively 
easy,  but  when  he  was  told  to  go  on  the  second, 
the  officer  who  sent  him  to  one  of  the  sectors, 
and  one  which  was  the  most  dangerous,  little 
guessed  how  very  near  it  was  to  being  the  last 
message  Maurice  would  ever  carry.  He  came 
to  a  spot  where  he  had  to  halt  for  a  few  minutes, 
for  a  regiment  was  marching  by,  made  up  of 
men  who  had  been  war-hardened  by  the  fighting 
at  the  front;  fine,  bronzed,  and  weather-beaten 
fellows  who  would  not  be  turned  aside  from  the 
fearful  task  the  Brigadier-General  had  set  them 
to  do.  This  was  another  of  those  infantry  raids 
which  the  Germans  were  powerless  to  stop,  and 
the  regiment  was  swinging  on,  singing,  and  pre- 
senting a  magnificent  appearance.  They  might 
have  been  marching  through  one  of  the  towns 


76  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

at  home,  rather  than  moving  into  the  very  jaws 
of  death. 

As  soon  as  they  had  passed,  Maurice  crossed 
the  road  and  made  for  the  place  where  he  ex- 
pected to  find  the  battalion  for  one  of  whose 
Majors  he  was  carrying  a  very  special  message. 
It  was  getting  rather  dark  when  he  got  among 
the  men,  and  one  of  the  Lieutenants  told  him 
where  Major  Grey  was. 

"You'd  better  not  go.  He  is  in  one  of  those 
forward  trenches  yonder.  Ah !  just  where  that 
German  shell  burst!  The  Major  made  up  his 
mind  to  set  some  of  our  men  to  snip  away  the 
barbed  wire,  for  we're  going  to  make  a  big  raid 
before  morning.  Let  me  send  one  of  these 
fellows  with  your  message,  for  they  know 
their  way  about,"  said  the  young  officer 
kindly. 

"What!  Send  another  fellow  just  to  save 
my  own  skin?"  asked  Maurice,  half  scornfully. 
"Besides,  it's  a  verbal  message  for  the  Major, 
and  for  his  ear  only,  so  I  was  told,  and  I  haven't 
a  bit  of  writing  about  me.  Thanks,  all  the 
same,  but  I  must  go  myself." 

With  that  he  moved  on  towards  the  trench, 
which  he  found  in  the  dim  twilight,  and 
dropped  into  it,  with  the  German  trench  not 
a  hundred  yards  away. 

Between  the  rival  trenches  was  a  fearful 
tangle  of  criss-crossed  barbed  wire,  put  there 
by  the  Germans  and  so  interlaced  that  Maurice 
thought  a  cat  could  scarcely  get  through,  much 
less  a  soldier.  The  moment  he  dropped  into 


BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT       77 

the  trench  he  saw  the  German  trench  lined  up 
as  it  were  with  spouts  of  rifle  fire,  and  English 
soldiers  poured  back  volley  after  volley  at  some 
of  the  enemy's  men  when  they  leapt  up  out  of 
their  own  trench,  thinking  to  hack  away  the 
very  wire  they  had  placed  there.  It  was  clear 
that  they  meditated  a  raid. 

"Let  'em  all  come!"  shouted  some  of  our 
men;  and  a  terrific-  fusillade  followed,  so  that 
no  German  came  near  the  barbed  wire,  and  only 
one  or  two  got  back  to  the  trenches. 

There  was  a  lull  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
Maurice  thought  his  chance  had  come;  for  in 
the  dim  evening  light  no  sign  of  the  enemy 
could  be  anywhere  seen. 

"I  saw  him  crawling  along  to  those  barbed 
wires,"  said  the  non-com.,  staring  at  Maurice, 
wondering  what  he  wanted,  and  knowing  that 
he  did  not  belong  to  his  company,  nor  even  to 
his  battalion.  "He's  gone,  I  expect,  to  see 
whether  there 's  any  chance  of  getting  round  to 
that  trench  to  turn  those  Huns  out.  Do  you 
want  him?" 

"I  have  a  message  for  him  from  the  Briga- 
dier-General." 

"Best  wait  for  him  to  come  back — if  ever  he 
does,"  the  sergeant  muttered,  under  his  breath, 
for  he  felt  that  another  man  ought  to  have  been 
doing  that  sort  of  work,  rather  than  a  valuable 
officer  going  out  to  risk  his  life. 

Maurice  searched  the  front  in  the  twilight 
with  his  hand  to  his  eyes,  and  when  he  spotted 
the  Major,  he  wondered  how  he  should  get  at 


78  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

him.  There  was  a  greatly  prolonged  lull,  the 
men  in  this  trench,  where  Maurice  was  shelter- 
ing, watching  for  any  sign  of  further  efforts  on 
the  part  of  the  Germans,  with  an  occasional 
rifle  shot  picking  off  a  venturesome  soldier  in 
the  enemy  trenches. 

"I  must  crawl  out  to  him,"  thought  Maurice, 
who  had  been  told  that  the  message  was  urgent, 
and  time  a  great  consideration — everything,  in 
fact. 

Where  he  stood,  when  he  had  moved  along 
the  trench  to  get  nearer  to  the  officer,  there  was 
no  one  to  hinder  him,  and  .to  avoid  any  shots 
that  might  come  he  went  out  of  the  trench  on 
his  hands  and  knees,  throwing  himself  down 
constantly  full  length  on  the  ground,  wriggling 
along  at  times,  taking  every  bit  of  shelter 
possible.  The  men  in  our  trenches  watched 
him,  wondering  at  his  daring,  and  saw  how, 
with  a  speed  which  was  surprising,  he  came  to 
the  spot  where  the  Major  was  sheltering  behind 
a  fallen  tree-trunk  close  up  against  the  barbed 
fencing.  He  was  talking  to  three  men  lying 
low,  like  himself,  giving  them  instructions  as 
to  the  wire-cutting.  Maurice  could  hear  the 
tang  of  a  jarred  wire  which  a  fourth  man  was 
working  on  in  the  twilight,  which  had  almost 
become  darkness  now,  so  that  the  soldier  could 
afford  to  be  venturesome. 

The  Major  now  thought  he  could  safely  move, 
and  he  stood  upright  to  peer  into  the  gathering 
darkness;  but  the  moment  Maurice  was  within 
speaking  distance  he  put  out  his  hand,  still 


BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT       79 

sprawling  on  the  ground,  and  caught  at  the 
Major's  ankle  to  attract  attention. 

"I've  brought  a  message  from  General 
Medway,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  when  the  officer 
looked  down  sharply  and  saw  him.  As  soon  as 
he  heard  Maurice,  Major  Grey  flung  himself 
prone  on  the  ground  to  hear  what  the  message 
was. 

"Tell  the  General  that  I  have  already  given 
orders  to  that  effect,  but  ask  him  if  he  can  send 
me  another  hundred  men,  if  I  am  to  raid  the 
trench  yonder  effectively." 

Maurice  saluted,  and  turned  to  go  away, 
while  the  Major,  standing  again,  peered  into 
the  darkness  to  see,  if  possible,  what  the  enemy 
was  doing.  Suddenly  there  was  a  magnesium 
flare  from  the  German  trench,  and  the  soldiers 
there  saw  the  Major  and  his  men  at  the  barbed 
wire.  An  instant  later  there  was  the  uproar  of 
bullets  and  cracking  rifles,  and  Maurice  saw  one 
of  the  men  who  was  clipping  the  barbed  wire 
throw  up  his  hands  and  fall  backwards,  then 
lie  still. 

The  magnesium  wire  continued  to  flare,  and 
two  other  men  fell,  while  the  Major  dropped  on 
his  knees.  Maurice  wondered  whether  he  was 
hit,  but  when  he  saw  him  lying  on  his  side  he 
knew  that  one  of  the  bravest  officers  at  the 
front  had  fallen. 

But  was  he  dead?  The  light  still  flared,  for 
all  this  was  but  a  matter  of  moments,  and 
Maurice,  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  saw  the  four 
men  lying  where  they  had  fallen.  Three  men 


80  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

lay  still,  but  the  Major  turned  on  his  side, 
writhing  with  pain. 

"I  must  go  to  him,"  Maurice  muttered, 
turning  round,  still  lying  low;  and  regardless 
of  the  danger,  knowing  that  if  he  were  seen  he 
would  be  a  bullet-mark  for  the  German  snipers, 
he  crawled  back  until  he  came  to  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  spot  where  Major  Grey  was 

lying. 

"Are  you  hurt,  sir?"  he  called;  and  at  that 
moment  the  magnesium  flare  went  out,  and  at 
once  all  around  him  was  blackness.  There  were 
shots  still  flying,  sent  at  random  into  the  dark- 
ness, but  Maurice  sprang  to  his  feet  and  took  a 
few  swift  strides  to  where  the  Major  lay. 

"Are  you  badly  hurt,  sir!"  he  asked  again, 
falling  on  his  knees  and  bending  over  the 
wounded  officer. 

He  had  scarcely  put  the  question  when  he 
felt  something  like  a  blow  on  his  chest  and  near 
his  heart,  but  since  it  was  only  momentary  he 
took  no  notice  of  it. 

"I'm  done  for,  I  think,  for  I  can't  move.  A 
shot  has  gone  through  me.  Better  get  back, 
my  lad,  or  you'll  be  picked  off  if  that  mag- 
nesium flare  should  come  again." 

Maurice  thought  quickly  in  those  moments. 

"If  you  could  grip  my  belt  tightly,  sir,  I 
might  go  on  my  hands  and  knees  and  drag  you 
back  to  the  trench,  where  they  could  do  some- 
thing for  you." 

"I'll  try,"  came  the  ready  and  grateful 
answer. 


He  Lifted  the  Major  By  His  Shoulders  and  Dragged  Him 
Along   Slowly. 


BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT       81 

Maurice  felt  the  Major's  hand  at  his  belt; 
and  then,  although  the  wounded  man  was  above 
the  medium  size,  Maurice  began  to  move.  It 
seemed  to  him  at  first,  as  he  made  the  effort 
to  drag  the  heavy  body  of  the  officer  over  the 
uneven  ground,  which  was  covered  with  the 
broken  metal  of  hundreds  of  exploded  shells, 
that  his  strength  would  not  last  out;  but  the 
thought  of  the  wounded  Major's  needs,  his 
extremity,  the  certainty  that  he  would  bleed  to 
death  if  Maurice  did  not  bring  him  away  at 
once,  made  him  put  forth  an  effort  which 
enabled  him  to  move  on  towards  the  English 
trench. 

It  was  slow  work,  but  by  inches  he  drew  the 
wounded  man  nearer  and  nearer. 

Suddenly,  when  he  was  within  twenty  yards 
of  the  trench,  where  the  Major's  men  were  wait- 
ing, distressed  and  maddened  at  the  thought 
that  the  officer  they  loved  was  killed  in  that 
last  volley,  the  magnesium  flare  came  again. 
Maurice  had  risen  to  his  feet  to  grip  the  Major 
by  the  shoulders  and  drag  him  on  more  easily 
and  swiftly,  but  in  a  moment,  while  he  saw  his 
own  long  shadow  cast  on  the  ground,  and  reach- 
ing even  to  the  British  trench,  he  flung  himself 
prone  on  the  ground. 

"Lie  low,  sir,  and  the  shots  will  go  over  us." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  the  air  was  torn 
with  a  fierce  rifle  fusillade,  but  it  did  no  harm. 
The  men  in  the  trench  dropped  low,  but  watched 
keenly  through  the  periscopes,  in  case  this  wild 
rush  of  fire  was  the  prelude  to  a  rush,  after 


82  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

hacking  their  way  through  the  barbed  wire 
entanglement. 

The  pandemonium  seemed  to  be  unending  to 
Maurice,  who  could  hear  the  hiss  and  zipp  of 
the  bullets.  His  fear  was  lest  he  might  be  hit 
by  some  stray  low  shot  from  the  trench  to- 
wards which  he  had  been  dragging  his  heavy 
burden. 

Again  the  light  went  out  after  a  terrible  and 
answering  stream  of  bullets  from  our  own  men ; 
but  every  shot  was  well  overhead;  for  in  that 
sudden  flare  the  men  had  seen  what  Maurice 
was  doing. 

"We'll  try  again,  sir,"  exclaimed  Maurice, 
in  the  lull  which  followed  when  the  darkness 
came.  '  *  Grip  my  belt. ' ' 

But  the  Major  did  not  move.  He  had  either 
fainted  or  was  dead — killed,  perhaps,  by  a  shot 
in  that  furious  fusillade.  Maurice  slipped  his 
hand  into  the  officer's  tunic,  and  to  his  intense 
relief  felt  the  heart-beats. 

"I  must  take  the  risks,"  he  cried,  springing 
to  his  feet,  and  bending  low,  he  lifted  the  Major 
by  his  shoulders,  and  dragged  him  along  slowly, 
the  wounded  man's  feet  trailing  on  the  ground. 
He  had  barely  begun  to  move  when  there  was  a 
scramble  of  feet,  and  three  or  four  soldiers 
who  had  come  out  of  the  trench  took  the  burden 
from  him,  and,  carrying  the  Major  in  their 
arms,  took  him  into  the  shelter  of  a  dugout 
and  looked  to  his  wounds. 

Maurice,  with  his  limbs  trembling  after  that 
great  effort,  was  yet  alive  to  duty. 


"Who  is  next  in  command?"  he  asked,  as 
the  Major  was  taken  away. 

"I  am,"  exclaimed  a  Captain,  who  had  come 
tramping  along  the  trench.  "Who  are  you?" 

"Maurice  Millard,  sir.  I  was  sent  by  Gen- 
eral Medway  with  a  message  for  Major  Grey, 
but  he  was  wounded  after  I  gave  it  to  him  out 
there  by  the  wire  entanglement.  I  must  tell 
you,  sir,  since  he  cannot  give  any  orders." 

Maurice  repeated  the  message,  and  added, 
"Major  Grey  asked  me  to  tell  the  General  that 
he  wants  a  hundred  men  at  once  to  carry  out 
the  order  successfully.  May  I  go,  sir?" 

"Yes,  Millard.  But  wait!  Let  me  shake  the 
hand  of  a  brave  young  fellow,"  the  Captain 
said,  thrilling  at  the  remembrance  of  what  he 
had  seen  Maurice  doing.  "Are  you  hurt  at 
all?" 

"No,  sir." 

Maurice  saluted,  and  taking  the  risks  again 
for  the  journey  to  the  General,  he  went  as 
fleetly  as  his  fatigue  would  let  him.  Once  or 
twice  he  tried  a  sprint,  but  failed  to  keep  it 
up;  but  after  a  time  he  found  the  General  in 
a  broken-down  barn,  issuing  orders.  The  mo- 
ment he  saw  Maurice  enter,  his  clothes  muddy 
and  torn,  and  bloodstained  because  of  the  Ma- 
jor's wound,  he  asked  quickly: 

"Any  message  from  Major  Grey?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  has  anticipated  what  you  pro- 
posed, but  wants  a  hundred  men  at  once." 

"He  shall  have  them.  Captain  Darner,  see 
to  that.  Was  all  right,  Millard?" 


84  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"All  was  right,  sir,  except  that  the  Major  is 
very  seriously  wounded.  But  I  repeated  your 
message  to  the  Captain  who  takes  up  the  com- 
mand, and  he  is  waiting  for  the  extra  men,  sir." 

When  Captain  Darner  left  the  barn  to  carry 
out  this  instruction  for  reinforcements,  General 
Medway  turned  to  Maurice. 

"Tell  me  what  is  going  on  there." 

Maurice  told  of  all  he  had  seen,  but  no  word 
was  spoken  of  his  share  in  bringing  in  the 
wounded  Major.  He  had  finished,  and  was  in 
the  act  of  saluting  before  turning  away  when 
the  General  exclaimed  in  concern: 

"Millard,  you  have  been  hit.    Come  here." 

Maurice  stepped  close  to  the  table. 

"I  think  not,  sir,"  he  said  quietly. 

He  had  forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the 
rescue  of  the  Major  that  he  had  felt  a  heavy 
blow  on  his*  chest,  but  now  he  remembered. 

"You  were  hit  there,"  said  the  General, 
pointing  to  Maurice's  breast-pocket.  "By 
every  right  it  ought  to  have  killed  you,"  he 
went  on,  in  a  tone  of  amazement.  "Yet  you 
seem  to  be  unhurt." 

The  General  bent  over  the  table,  unbuttoned 
the  pocket,  and  pulled  out  the  tiny  Bible 
Maurice's  mother  had  given  him  when  they 
said  "Good-by."  He  gazed  at  it  in  surprise, 
and  beckoning  to  the  officers  who  were  standing 
around,  held  it  up  for  them  to  see.  The  shot 
had  torn  its  way  through  the  cloth  of  the 
jacket,  and  bored  into  the  cover,  where  it 
stopped.  It  must  have  fallen  away  when  its 


BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENT        85 

career  ended  so  abruptly,  but  those  who 
watched,  and  Maurice,  whose  heart  was  beat- 
ing quickly,  and  into  whose  throat  a  lump  arose 
as  he  thought  of  his  mother  and  her  parting 
words,  and  this  gift  of  hers,  realized  how  nar- 
row his  escape  had  been. 

"It  was  your  mother's  Bible,  my  lad,"  said 
the  General,  who  had  read  her  name,  and  what 
she  had  written  underneath. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Maurice  huskily.  "She 
gave  it  to  me  the  morning  I  left  home  to  come 
to  the  front." 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  but  for  the 
perpetual  boom  of  guns,  the  burst  of  shells,  and 
the  rattle  of  rifles. 

' '  Millard, ' '  the  General  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 
that  had  a  strange  tremor  in  it,  "you  have  to 
thank  God  for  shielding  you,  and  for  the 
mother  who  gave  you  this.  Take  it,  and  don't 
part  with  it." 

"I  told  my  mother  I  never  would,  sir,"  said 
Maurice,  whose  voice  faltered.  He  took  the 
Bible  from  the  General's  hand,  saluted,  and 
walked  away. 


MAJOR  GREY  was  brought  from  the 
dugout  and  carried  to  the  hospital 
after  a  terrific  German  assault  on  the 
trenches  had  been  swept  back.  As  soon  as  he 
was  able  to  think  of  other  things,  and  in  spite 
of  his  pain,  he  sent  for  General  Medway,  and 
told  him  how  he  owed  his  life  to  Maurice  Mil- 
lard. 

The  General  listened  in  amazement. 

"I'll  see  that  it's  not  lost  sight  of,  Major," 
he  exclaimed,  when  the  wounded  officer  had 
ended.  "It's  very  wonderful  that  a  boy  barely 
eighteen  should  have  all  that  readiness  of  re- 
source. As  for  pluck,  he  has  any  amount  of 
it,  for  only  this  morning  I  heard  a  story  about 
him,  and  I  mean  to  make  something  of  that  and 
this  account  of  yours  when  I  have  a  chance 
with  the  Commander-in-Chief . " 

A  mist  came  to  the  wounded  Major's  eyes 
when  General  Medway  mentioned  Maurice's 
escape  because  of  the  pocket  Bible,  and  then 
came  the  fact  of  Maurice  having  won  the 
Bronze  Medal. 

"It  was  just  the  prelude,  Major,  to  this  sort 
of  work.  And  I  can  tell  you  another  thing. 
Before  I  heard  that  story  of  the  farm  fire  I  felt 
he  had  the  making  of  a  splendid  young  officer. 

86 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  87 

He  went  to  my  old  school,  Ellingham — where 
you  went,  too — and  I  mean  to  get  him  out  of 
the  ranks,  obtain  a  commission  for  him,  and 
keep  my  eye  on  him.  A  young  fellow  with  that 
sort  of  grit  has  a  future  before  him.'* 

General  Medway,  however,  was  not  able  to 
see  to  Maurice  for  some  time,  for  the  Germans, 
with  their  furious  onslaughts,  kept  his  hands 
full.  Maurice  was  meanwhile  very  much  oc- 
cupied in  one  of  the  hospitals,  where  the  de- 
mands were  so  great  that  he  was  claimed  from 
the  ranks  to  give  what  help  he  could  to  the 
wounded. 

Now  and  again,  however,  he  got  among  some 
of  the  men,  with  whom  he  was  a  general  fa- 
vorite, and  one  evening  he  joined  a  group  of 
Tommies  who  had  just  come  in  from  the 
trenches  to  their  rest  billets,  and  were  enjoying 
the  best-cooked  meal  they  had  had  for  many 
a  day.  They  had  come  in,  singing  lustily, 
1  'Please  don't  send  me  home!"  and  now  the 
group  was  kept  in  a  roar  with  funny  tales. 
Every  soldier,  while  he  was  stirring  his  soup 
in  whatever  old  salmon  or  bully-beef  tin  he 
could  find,  not  to  wait  for  better  serving,  tried 
to  go  one  better  than  his  neighbor. 

The  Tommies  fairly  rocked  with  laughter  at 
something  Maurice  had  just  told  them,  when 
a  Captain  came  out  of  the  barn  which  was  still 
the  Brigadier's  headquarters. 

"I  want  Sergeant  Carter,"  he  called,  as  soon 
as  the  men  had  quieted  down  enough  for  him 
to  make  his  voice  heard. 


88  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"He's  in  the  hospital,  sir,"  Maurice  ex- 
claimed, springing  to  his  feet  and  saluting. 
"He  told  me  where  I  could  find  him,  in  case 
he  should  be  wanted.  Shall  I  fetch  him,  sir?" 

"Yes.  Tell  him  to  come  here  with  his  motor- 
cycle. The  Brigadier  has  something  on  hand 
for  him." 

Maurice  jumped  on  a  bike  that  was  leaning 
against  the  broken  wall,  and  without  stopping 
to  ask  any  questions  as  to  ownership,  he  rode 
hard  to  the  hospital.  He  had  spent  a  good 
part  of  the  day  with  the  Bed  Cross,  helping 
to  carry  some  of  the  wounded  back  from  the 
trenches  after  a  tremendous  fight  and  a  fierce 
counter-attack,  and  he  had  been  feeling  tired. 
But  now  he  flung  all  that  aside,  and  winding  in 
and  out  among  the  groups  of  soldiers  who  were 
sleeping,  or  eating,  or  smoking  after  their  hard 
day's  work,  he  came  within  sight  of  the  hospi- 
tals. More  than  once  the  way  was  blocked,  for 
some  howitzer  batteries  were  being  hurried  up 
from  the  base,  in  readiness  for  an  expected 
mass  attack  by  the  Germans. 

Not  to  lose  time  he  rode  alongside  the  mov- 
ing guns  to  get  round  by  the  rear,  or  slip 
through  somewhere  if  a  chance  offered.  He 
saw  a  gap,  and  although  it  was  risky,  and  a 
fall  would  have  meant  being  crushed  under  the 
wheels  of  a  heavy  gun,  he  gained  the  other 
side.  Then  he  made  a  dash  up  the  hill,  and 
found  Carter  busy  seeing  to  the  carrying  of 
a  lot  of  wounded  soldiers  into  the  wards. 

"The  Brigadier  wants  you,  sergeant,"  he 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  89 

cried,  while  he  was  dismounting.  ''Captain 
Kenyon  says  you  must  bring  your  motor-cycle 
with  you." 

"That  sounds  like  business,"  said  the  sol- 
dier, wiping  his  damp  face.  "I'll  go  at  once; 
but  I'm  awfully  hungry.  I've  been  at  this  job 
ever  since  twelve,  and  there 's  such  a  lot  brought 
in  that  I've  had  no  time  to  eat." 

Carter  looked  hungry  and  done  up,  but  he 
was  a  soldier,  and  with  him  duty  always  came 
first.  While  he  was  rolling  down  his  sleeves 
and  crossing  to  a  wagon  where  he  had  flung 
his  jacket  on  one  of  the  wheels,  Maurice  asked 
where  his  cycle  was. 

"In  the  shed  behind  those  horses,"  said 
Carter. 

"Then  I'll  go  for  it,  and  see  that  it's  in  good 
going  order,  while  you  go  into  the  canteen  and 
get  something  to  eat,"  cried  Maurice,  jumping 
on  his  own  machine  while  he  was  speaking. 

"He's  prime,  and  no  mistake,"  the  sergeant 
muttered,  looking  to  his  revolver  while  he 
crossed  over  to  the  canteen;  for  he  guessed, 
from  other  risky  errands  he  had  been  sent  on 
before,  that  it  might  come  to  fighting  to-night 
in  order  to  win  through. 

Only  stopping  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea  at  the 
canteen  counter,  and  carrying  some  food  in  his 
hand,  he  ate  as  he  went  along,  thinking  to  get 
to  the  shed  in  time  to  put  on  the  finishing 
touches ;  but  Maurice  had  the  machine  in  readi- 
ness, and  had  found  the  goggles. 

"You're    a    brick,    old    man!"    Carter    ex- 


90  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

claimed,  when  he  saw  what  Maurice  had  done. 
"Well,  I'm  off!" 

The  motor-cycle  went  down  the  slope  at  a 
tremendous  pace,  and  Maurice  watched  until 
the  sergeant  rode  out  of  sight. 

As  there  was  nothing  calling  him  back  to  the 
Brigadier's  headquarters,  he  looked  round  to 
see  what  he  could  do.  He  turned  in  at  the 
hospital  close  by,  and  although  he  had  done 
a  stiff  day's  work  already,  he  laid  himself  out 
for  a  bit  more  when  some  ambulance  vans  came 
up  to  the  door.  Without  waiting  to  be  called 
on,  he  lent  a  helping  hand  at  the  stretchers. 

It  took  an  hour  or  more  to  empty  the  vans 
that  poured  in,  and  then,  looking  at  his  wrist- 
watch,  and  finding  it  was  time  to  report  him- 
self in  his  own  billet,  he  jumped  on  the  bike 
and  hurried  back.  He  passed  the  barn  where 
Captain  Kenyon  was  standing,  and  Maurice  saw 
by  the  light  of  the  moon  that  he  looked  worried. 

"Is  that  Millard?"  the  Captain  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Can  you  ride  a  motor-cycle?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  gone  many  a  mile  on  Ser- 
geant Carter's  since  I  came  to  camp." 

"Then  you  shall  have  mine,  for  I  want  you 
to  overtake  Carter.  He  started  with  his  mes- 
sage, but  another  has  cropped  up  since  then, 
and  the  Brigadier  wants  it  to  be  taken  to  the 
General.  But  you  don't  know  the  way,  per- 
haps?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do.  You  sent  me  to  him  the  day 
before  yesterday." 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  91 

"Ah,  so  I  did!  I  quite  forgot.  But  could 
you  find  your  way  in  this  light  ? ' ' 

"Easily,  sir,"  was  the  ready  answer. 

"Then  come  with  me,"  said  the  Captain, 
turning  on  his  heel  and  crossing  the  farmyard 
to  the  barn. 

Something  like  a  sick  feeling  came  to  Maurice 
as  he  stood  in  the  doorway  for  a  moment,  and 
glanced  along  the  moonlit  road  he  would  have 
to  travel.  The  fighting  had  been  so  violent, 
and  so  much  ground  had  been  taken  and  re- 
taken, that  he  heard  at  the  hospital  that  some 
parts  of  the  road  were  possibly  occupied  by 
Germans ;  but  the  only  way  he  knew  of  in  order 
to  get  direct  to  Headquarters,  unless  he  rode 
many  miles  farther  and  lost  time,  was  through 
a  wood  he  could  see  in  the  far  distance,  and 
the  road,  if  not  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
might  very  well  be  shelled  by  shrapnel.  Still, 
duty  called,  and  the  thought  of  it  stiffened  his 
back  in  an  instant. 

"I'm  going  to  try  my  level  best,"  he  mut- 
tered, when  he  followed  Captain  Kenyon  into 
the  building  where  the  Brigadier  was  sitting 
at  a  table  listening  to  a  message  through  the 
telephone.  Seeing  Maurice,  he  beckoned  to 
him. 

"Millard,  this  is  the  message,  an  important 
one,  and  it  must  get  into  no  other  hands  but 
the  General's;  not  even  into  an  officer's  hand. 
I  have  written  on  very  thin  paper,  so  that  you 
may  hide  it  easily.  Chew  it  into  a  pulp  rather 
than  let  the  Germans  read  it  if  by  any  chance 


92  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

they  get  hold  of  you,"  the  Brigadier  added, 
with  an  anxious  laugh.  "Don't  worry  about 
overtaking  Carter.  He  will  be  too  far  ahead 
for  you  to  catch  him  up;  and  besides,  I  want 
you  to  move  quite  independently,  and  do  what- 
ever your  ingenuity  and  circumstances  suggest. 
I  don't  like  sending  you,  and  I  wouldn't  do  it, 
but  I  can't  help  myself,  and  I  know  that  you 
are  alert  and  reliable." 

Maurice  flushed  at  the  words. 

"I'll  do  my  best,  General,"  he  said,  taking 
the  message,  and  to  the  amusement  of  those 
who  were  looking  on,  he  pulled  off  his  jacket, 
slit  the  collar  with  his  penknife,  and  contrived 
to  slide  the  envelope  in  at  the  narrow  opening. 

"It  will  serve  to  stiffen  the  collar,  at  all 
events, ' '  said  the  General,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing with  interest.  "Well,  good  luck  to  you, 
Millard,"  he  exclaimed  when  Maurice  had 
pulled  on  his  jacket,  and  was  ready  to  go. 

Maurice  was  at  the  door  when  the  Brigadier 
called  after  him : 

"By  the  way,  Millard,  I  heard  of  what  you 
did  for  Major  Grey.  It  was  splendid,  and  will 
not  be  forgotten. ' ' 

Maurice's  face  colored  with  pleasure,  but, 
saluting,  he  passed  out,  Captain  Kenyon  at 
his  heels. 

"You  must  have  a  good  revolver,"  said  the 
Captain.  He  went  to  one  of  the  outhouses  in 
the  farmyard,  and  came  back  with  a  beautiful 
little  six-chambered  weapon,  into  which  he 
slipped  the  full  number  of  charges. 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  93 

"Suppose  I  give  you  another  handful,"  he 
said,  slipping  a  quantity  into  Maurice 's  pocket. 
"Now,  Millard,  you  are  set  up,  and  if  any  Ger- 
mans try  to  stop  you,  you  can  show  them  your 
mettle." 

"And  that  I  will,  sir." 

"Here's  my  motor-cycle,"  exclaimed  the 
Captain,  when  they  moved  through  the  wild 
farm  garden,  which  had  had  no  attention  from 
anyone  since  the  army  came.  By  an  apple- 
tree  a  machine  was  leaning,  and  being  a  soldier 
through  and  through,  he  did  not  stop  at  trifles, 
but  dropped  on  his  knees  and  looked  carefully 
at  the  cycle  to  see  that  it  was  in  thorough-going 
order.  He  went  over  every  part  of  it  with  his 
flash-lamp,  leaving  nothing  unexamined  and 
nothing  to  chance. 

At  last  the  perilous  journey  began.  Away 
on  the  left  were  the  sounds  of  heavy  cannon- 
ading, the  very  road  shaking  with  the  violence 
of  the  firing,  telling  Maurice  that  the  Germans 
were  using  their  heavy  guns,  which  the  British 
field  howitzers  were  answering  continually.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  machine  gun  and  rifle 
fire  never  ceased,  and  at  times,  when  he  was 
nearer  to  the  trenches,  because  of  the  bends 
in  the  road,  he  could  hear  the  spluttering 
crackle,  and  the  reports  of  bombs  and  hand- 
grenades. 

After  a  while  Maurice  got  away  from  the 
open  country  into  the  hills,  where,  so  he 
thought,  anything  might  happen.  He  knew  of 
a  defile  he  had  to  enter.  It  was  empty  when 


94  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

he  rode  through  it  two  or  three  days  before, 
but  there  were  so  many  changes  that  he  won- 
dered whether  any  Germans  were  now  holding 
it.  They  ought  not  to  be,  but  there  was  no 
telling  where  the  enemy  might  get,  since  he  had 
cunning  and  daring  enough  for  anything. 

The  possibility  of  Germans  being  there  sent 
a  shiver  down  his  back,  and  brought  the  damp- 
ness to  his  forehead,  but  he  remembered  what 
his  Scoutmaster  had  once  said:  "The  brave 
man  dashes  into  danger  without  hesitation, 
when  a  less  brave  man  is  inclined  to  hang 
back." 

Maurice  brushed  his  face  with  his  sleeve,  and 
setting  his  teeth,  and  gripping  the  handle-bar 
tightly,  he  put  the  motor  to  its  topmost  speed. 
What  with  the  noise  of  his  machine,  and  the 
booming  of  the  distant  artillery,  he  could  hear 
nothing  close  at  hand  until  there  was  a  mo- 
mentary lull  with  the  guns,  when  a  challenge 
came,  sharp  and  loud : 

"Anhalten!" 

Maurice  knew  now  that  his  fears  were  real- 
ized. The  defile  had  changed  hands,  and  the 
Germans  were  in  it,  for  this  was  the  German 
order  to  stop.  He  did  not  obey,  but  went  on 
fast  as  ever;  yet  he  could  not  repress  the  thrill 
of  fear.  The  machine  dashed  on  at  a  terrific 
speed,  and  bumped  and  shook,  and  threatened 
to  tumble  to  pieces  with  the  roughness  of  the 
road.  In  spite  of  its  noise  Maurice  heard  the 
sound  of  a  shot,  and  a  quick  hiss  as  it  missed 
him  and  flew  past;  another  just  as  near;  a 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  95 

third;  and  again  the  same  challenge  from  a 
nearer  point — a  strong- voiced  call: 

"Anhalten!" 

Maurice  wondered  whether  it  would  be  wiser 
to  stop,  or  go  ahead ;  but  if  he  halted  he  would 
be  taken  prisoner,  and  apart  from  his  own 
danger,  since  he  would  possibly  be  shot  off- 
hand, he  thought  of  the  errand  on  which  Gen- 
eral Medway  had  sent  him.  It  must  be  im- 
portant, or  he  would  not  have  been  sent  when 
there  was  every  chance  of  meeting  the  enemy; 
but  the  thought  of  being  made  a  prisoner  was 
not  to  be  compared  with  the  danger  of  the 
Brigade  under  General  Medway 's  command. 
He  knew,  as  others  did,  that  the  Germans  were 
in  overwhelming  numbers  where  the  Brigade 
was  placed,  and  so  much  depended  on  that 
message  getting  through. 

"I'll  take  the  risk,"  Maurice  determined,  and 
on  he  went,  in  spite  of  the  call  and  the  shots 
which  followed.  His  machine  was  in  fine  work- 
ing order,  and  God  helping  him,  he  would  do 
his  duty  and  brave  the  danger. 

He  gripped  the  handle-bar  still  more  tightly, 
and  his  whole  body  was  tense.  Shots  came,  and 
he  could  hear  them  whizz  past  him.  One  hit 
the  heel  of  his  boot,  and  he  felt  the  jar  of  it. 
Another  cut  through  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket; 
but  nothing  worse  happened,  and  he  was  thank- 
ful. Before  long  he  was  out  of  range,  and 
thought  he  had  got  clear. 

When  he  had  cleared  the  defile,  he  had  a 
forest  to  go  through,  and  again  he  wondered 


96  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

what  he  might  meet.  What  if  the  Germans 
were  there  as  well?  It  was  a  temptation  to 
stop,  for  the  darkness  was  intense  where  the 
leafy  branches  of  the  trees  cut  off  the  moon- 
light. He  found  himself  wishing  that  the  build- 
ers of  motor-cycles  would  make  them  go  silently, 
for  this  horrid  noise  advertised  his  coming. 

But  what  was  the  use  of  wishing  things  of 
that  sort?  There  was  the  fact  that  the  motor 
was  noisy,  and  he  would  have  to  make  the  best 
of  it. 

"I'll  go  through  with  it,"  he  said  to  himself, 
and  he  drove  straight  across  from  the  mouth 
of  the  defile  into  the  forest.  He  had  barely 
got  among  the  trees  when  he  saw  the  gleam  of 
metal,  and  from  the  shape  of  it  he  knew  that 
it  was  the  helmet  of  a  German  soldier  who 
meant  to  shoot  him  down,  or  bar  the  way. 
Maurice  did  not  turn  aside,  but,  lowering  his 
head,  went  straight  at  him.  The  soldier,  en- 
deavoring to  dodge  the  motor,  caught  his  foot 
in  something,  and  rolled  over,  leaving  the  way 
clear.  The  sight  of  the  German  tumbling 
brought  laughter  to  Maurice's  lips;  but  on  he 
went. 

He  was  compelled  to  slow  down  considerably 
when  fairly  in  the  forest,  lest  some  spreading 
roots  should  throw  him.  Constantly  he  had  to 
bend  over  the  handle-bar  to  pass  under  the  low- 
lying  branches,  and  all  the  while  he  knew  that 
other  dangers  were  threatening  him.  At  any 
spot  a  German  sentry  might  bar  the  way,  and 
it  was  even  possible  that  he  would  run  into  the 


A  DANGEROUS  ERRAND  97 

midst  of  a  company  of  the  enemy;  but  the  one 
thought  was  the  spur  to  him.  He  was  on  duty ; 
he  had  to  carry  the  Brigadier's  message,  and 
must  not  give  up.  It  was  not  for  a  soldier  to 
think  of  consequences  to  himself. 

The  forest — as  he  knew  from  past  experi- 
ence— was  two  miles  across,  and  he  had  nearly 
covered  that  distance  without  having  seen  any 
further  sign  of  the  enemy.  Looking  ahead  he 
saw  the  open  country,  brilliantly  lit  up  by  the 
moon,  which  was  going  low  down  now,  and  be- 
fore long  would  give  place  to  the  dawn  of  the 
morning.  Far  on  in  front  were  great  blotches 
of  darkness,  which  might  be  anything,  but 
probably  the  British  Army.  It  was  there  that 
the  British  had  been  when  he  rode  through  the 
forest  that  other  day,  and  he  knew  there  had 
been  no  retreat,  in  spite  of  the  tremendous  ef- 
fort of  the  Germans  to  break  through  to  get 
to  Calais. 

His  heart  began  to  beat  with  hope.  He 
would  get  to  his  journey's  end,  find  the  Gen- 
eral, and  rid  himself  of  this  burden  of  responsi- 
bility— the  message  that  was  hidden  away  in 
his  collar,  and  on  the  delivery  of  which  so  much 
depended. 

"Not  far  now,"  he  exclaimed,  sitting  up  in 
his  saddle  to  peer  beyond  the  forest,  and  deter- 
mine the  way  he  should  take  when  he  dashed 
out  from  among  the  trees. 

But  disaster  came.  His  machine  hit  some- 
thing, and  he  was  hurled  out  of  his  seat,  coming 
to  the  ground  with  a  crash. 


vin 

THE  GERMAN  SPY 

WHEN  Maurice  came  to  himself  he  felt 
that  he  was  bruised  all  over.  His 
hands  were  cut  about,  and  smarted 
badly,  and  there  was  a  pain  in  his  head,  while 
the  blood  trickled  down  his  face. 

His  first  thought  was  for  the  letter.  He 
knew  that  he  had  been  unconscious,  perhaps 
for  some  time,  and  a  fear  came  that  while  he 
lay  helpless,  and  ignorant  of  what  was  passing, 
someone  might  have  searched  him,  and  possibly 
got  hold  of  the  Brigadier's  message.  The 
thought  of  this  made  him  feel  hot,  but  an  ex- 
clamation of  relief  came  when  he  felt  at  his 
collar  and  heard  the  slight  crackle  of  the  paper 
inside. 

"Safe,  thank  God!"  he  said  to  himself.  "I 
must  push  on,  for  time  is  precious.  But  I 
wonder  how  long  I  Ve  been  lying  here.  A  long 
time,  by  the  look  of  the  moon." 

Another  thought  came.  Were  there  any 
Germans  about?  Or  were  they  keeping  their 
distance  from  the  British  camp,  which  was  ex- 
ceptionally strong  on  this  side? 

When  he  stood  up  to  listen  and  look  around, 
he  found  himself  trembling  in  every  limb  after 
that  tremendous  shaking.  He  started  at  a 

98 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  99 

sound,  not  unlike  the  moan  of  someone  in  pain. 

"I  wonder  what  that  means,"  Maurice  mut- 
tered, looking  around,  in  case  it  was  possible 
to  find  some  explanation;  but  the  thought  of 
caution  came.  ''It  may  be  a  German  trying 
on  a  decoy  dodge.  He  wants  to  draw  me  into 
the  darkness,  perhaps." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  half  in- 
clined, in  spite  of  the  smart  of  his  scraped  skin 
and  the  bruises,  to  jump  on  his  machine  and 
ride  away;  but  the  moan  came  again.  The 
sound  was  no  sham,  for  it  was  one  of  very 
genuine  pain,  and  it  was  against  all  rules  of 
humanity  to  pass  by  one  who  was  in  trouble, 
and  leave  him  to  his  fate. 

"It  may  be  a  German,"  Maurice  thought, 
bandaging  his  bleeding  head  while  he  stood 
peering  into  the  blackness  of  the  forest.  The 
moan  came  again,  just  as  he  tied  the  knot. 

"Oh,  come!  I  can't  stand  it  when  it's  like 
that!"  he  exclaimed.  "If  somebody's  lying  in 
pain,  wounded,  perhaps,  with  a  bayonet,  or  a 
shell,  German  or  no  German,  I  must  see  what 
it  means,  and  do  something  for  him.  A  bit  of 
First  Aid,  perhaps." 

He  was  none  the  less  alert,  and  he  looked  to 
the  revolver  at  his  belt,  to  see  that  it  was  in 
working  order;  for  if  somebody  was  deceiving 
him  he  would  make  a  fight  for  it. 

He  moved  into  the  darkness,  cautiously, 
afraid  to  use  his  flash-lamp ;  and  before  he  had 
gone  a  yard  or  two  he  was  sprawling.  It  was 
impossible  to  stifle  a  cry  of  pain,  but  getting 


100  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

on  his  feet  he  pulled  out  his  lamp,  and,  switch- 
ing on  the  light,  saw  that  he  had  fallen  over 
a  motor-cycle. 

The  moan  came  again  from  the  bushes,  and 
he  groped  his  way  in  that  direction,  using  the 
light  and  risking  the  consequences. 

At  first  he  spoke  in  German,  but  no  answer 
came.  Then  he  tried  English. 

" Where  are  you?" 

"Here." 

Maurice  started  when  he  heard  the  response. 

"Is  it  Sergeant  Carter?"  he  asked,  forget- 
ful of  everything  now;  for  the  voice  was  one 
he  would  know  anywhere  although  it  was  more 
shaky,  he  thought,  than  Carter's. 

"Yes." 

Maurice  hurried  among  the  bushes,  using  the 
flash-light  freely;  but  he  suddenly  remembered 
the  need  for  caution,  and  shut  off  the  light; 
for  after  all  it  might  not  be  Carter,  but  a  trap 
set  for  him. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked,  halting,  and 
standing  in  darkness.  "Friend  or  foe?" 

"Are  you  Maurice  Millard?"  came  a  ques- 
tion in  return. 

There  was  no  more  doubt  after  that.  Maurice 
went  forward  at  a  run,  and  came  to  a  huddled 
heap,  which  proved  to  be  a  soldier  in  khaki. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  asked  eagerly,  drop- 
ping on  his  knees  by  the  soldier's  side. 

"I've  got  a  German  shot  in  my  thigh,"  said 
Carter,  whose  voice  was  shaking  with  pain. 

The  first  thing  Maurice  did  was  to  put  the 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  101 

sergeant  in  a  more  comfortable  position,  and 
when  Carter  asked  for  a  drink,  he  gave  him 
a  cupful  from  his  flask. 

"I  feel  better  for  that,"  said  Carter,  hand- 
ing back  the  collapsible  cup  with  a  trembling 
hand. 

"Now,  sergeant,  I'll  see  what's  wrong,  and 
serve  you  with  a  bit  of  First  Aid,"  said  Mau- 
rice cheerily,  hoping  to  put  some  heart  into  the 
wounded  soldier.  He  slit  up  the  khaki  trousers 
with  his  pocket-knife  and  looked  carefully  at 
the  wound.  The  experience  he  had  had  in  the 
Eed  Cross  Hospital  served  him,  for  while  he 
was  busy  bandaging  up  the  thigh  he  comforted 
Carter  by  telling  him  that  no  bone  was  smashed, 
but  the  bullet  had  gone  in  at  one  side  and  out 
at  the  other. 

"You  are  fixed  up  now,  sergeant,  till  I  get 
you  into  hospital,"  said  Maurice,  putting  the 
best  face  on  what  he  knew  to  be  an  ugly  bit  of 
business. 

"Anyhow,  Millard,  I'm  only  a  lame  dog," 
exclaimed  Carter,  with  a  wince,  when  he  tried 
to  move.  "My  leg's  done  for,  I'm  thinking,  in 
spite  of  that  bit  of  First  Aid.  But  what  are 
you  doing  here  ?  I  left  you  up  at  the  hospital  1 ' ' 
the  sergeant  went  on,  forgetful  of  himself  for 
the  moment. 

"General  Medway  thought  of  something 
after  you  had  gone.  I  rather  fancy  the  Ger- 
mans have  shown  signs  of  coming  on  as  thick 
as  locusts  where  our  Brigade  is.  Anyhow,  be- 
cause he  could  not  spare  any  of  his  officers,  and 


102  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

there's  likely  to  be  some  stiff  work  to-night — a 
smashing  blow  of  some  sort — Captain  Kenyon 
called  me  in,  and  the  Brigadier  sent  me  on  with 
a  further  message.  How  did  you  get  into  this 
mess?"  Maurice  asked,  breaking  off,  looking 
at  the  bandage  again,  and  making  it  sit  easier. 

They  sat  in  darkness  after  that,  and  Carter 
explained  matters  quietly. 

"The  Germans  were  not  here  three  or  four 
days  ago." 

"I  know,"  said  Maurice,  interrupting.  "I 
was  here  myself  two  days  ago,  and  the  forest 
was  empty — a  sort  of  'No  Man's  Land.'  " 

"They're  here  now,  it  seems.  They  must 
have  come  when  that  rush  was  made  at  the 
quarry,  and  being  here,  I  suppose  they  heard 
my  machine.  Somebody  shouted  'Anhalten!' 
or  something  like  that,  which  I  took  to  mean 
'Halt!'  but  I  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  put 
on  speed.  Then  they  let  go  at  me.  There  was 
a  regular  spatter  of  bullets,  and  one  of  them 
hit  me  in  the  thigh ;  but  I  went  on  out  of  their 
way  until  my  machine  hit  against  something — 
a  fallen  tree,  perhaps — and  I  was  sent  flying. 
I  just  managed  to  crawl  away  to  this  spot, 
thinking  I  might  get  into  hiding,  but  they  came 
for  me.  They  had  followed  me,  and  found  my 
broken  machine.  I  thought  I  was  done  for — 
that  they  were  certain  to  find  me — when  a  loud 
call  came,  and  the  Germans  did  not  stop  to 
look  for  me.  The  call  seemed  too  urgent ;  and 
after  a  bit  all  was  quiet,  except  that  never- 
ending  firing  of  the  big  guns." 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  103 

Carter  stopped  suddenly  at  a  whisper  from 
Maurice.  Although  the  moon  was  shining, 
lighting  up  the  open  country,  here,  in  the  midst 
of  the  dense  bushes,  it  was  so  dark  that  it  was 
impossible  for  anyone  to  see  these  two  English 
soldiers.  Listening,  they  heard  the  tramp  of 
feet  not  far  away,  and  the  jingle  of  spurs,  as 
well  as  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs. 

Were  they  friends  or  foes? 

The  unspoken  question  had  its  answer  almost 
immediately,  for  someone  spoke  in  German, 
which  Maurice,  having  learned  the  language  at 
school,  understood  well.  Carter  did  not  under- 
stand what  was  said,  but  Maurice,  with  his  lips 
close  to  the  soldier's  ear,  whispered  into  it  a 
translation  of  all  he  heard.  Their  blood  boiled 
at  what  wras  said,  and  presently  someone  lit  a 
match  to  light  a  cigar.  The  flare  of  the  match 
showed  them  a  big  group  of  soldiers,  all  in 
German  uniform  save  one,  and  this  one  was 
in  khaki. 

"You  say  you  are  supposed  to  be  out  here 
to  scout  in  the  woods,  and  see  whether  the  defile 
is  clear  so  that  the  English  General  may  send 
reinforcements  through?  That  was  what  I 
think  you  said?"  the  officer  asked,  bending  in 
his  saddle  to  speak  to  the  man  in  English  uni- 
form. 

"Exactly  that,"  came  the  answer,  and  at  the 
moment  someone  lit  a  match  once  more,  and 
Maurice  and  Carter  saw  the  faces  of  some  of 
the  men.  "None  know  me  for  a  German,  and 
because  I  speak  English  so  fluently  I  was  ac- 


104  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

cepted  when  I  enlisted  in  London.  I  am  sup- 
posed to  be  an  Englishman,  and  because  I  am 
able  to  speak  German  they  are  making  use  of 
me.  I  have  picked  up  no  end  of  information, 
and  as  they  count  me  one  of  their  best  scouts, 
I  am  here  to  see  whether  the  way  is  clear  for 
troops  in  case  reinforcements  are  called  for  to 
meet  the  great  German  rush  that  is  arranged 
for  to-morrow.  I  have  already  sent  back  the 
corporal  who  came  with  me — a  German  like 
myself,  by  the  way — to  report  that  so  far  the 
way  is  perfectly  clear.  I  gave  him  a  roughly- 
written  note  to  say  that  General  Medway  is 
reported  as  hard  pressed,  and  will  have  to  re- 
tire unless  reinforcements  are  sent  at  once." 

There  was  boisterous  laughter  among  the 
men  in  that  group  of  Germans. 

1  'You  will  get  well  paid  for  this,  Raidt,"  said 
the  officer,  leaning  with  his  hand  on  the  horse 's 
flank,  and  speaking  down  to  the  man  in  khaki. 
"You  are  worth  a  whole  battalion  to  us.  I 
suppose  you  will  go  back  to  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  to  report?" 

" Rather!  You  may  rely  on  it  that  I  shall 
not  leave  my  work  undone.  It  is  not  my  way, 
as  the  General  knows.  But  listen  to  what  I 
have  to  say.  The  defile  beyond  this  forest 
gradually  contracts.  It  comes  down  in  one 
place  to  a  narrow  passage,  and  that  part  is 
overlooked  by  hills  crested  with  trees.  A 
couple  of  thousand  Germans,  with  plenty  of 
machine  guns,  could  form  an  ambuscade,  and 
bring  disaster  to  the  brigade,  and  equally  sure 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  105 

am  I  that  the  General  will  send  one  forward 
if  General  Medway  is  supposed  to  make  an 
urgent  call  for  assistance." 

Eaidt  stopped,  and  silence  followed.  An- 
other match  was  lit  by  someone,  and  the  light 
not  only  showed  up  the  amused  faces  of  the 
troopers,  but  the  officer  sitting  in  his  saddle, 
deep  in  thought. 

"Splendid!"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  while. 
"My  men  are  ready.  Before  two  hours  have 
gone  I  can  block  the  exit.  We  can  concentrate 
our  shrapnel  fire  and  sweep  the  place,  and  I 
very  much  doubt  whether  many  of  the  British 
soldiers  will  get  out  alive.  Good-night." 

The  horsemen  rode  away  through  the  forest 
in  the  direction  of  the  defile  as  fast  as  the  dark- 
ness would  allow,  but  the  scout  in  khaki  sat 
down  on  a  fallen  tree  near  by,  holding  a  flash- 
lamp  in  his  hand,  while  he  wrote  some  notes 
in  a  pocket-book.  Carter  and  Maurice  could 
see  him  plainly,  and  keeping  their  eyes  on  him, 
while  they  covered  him  with  their  revolvers, 
they  whispered,  with  their  heads  almost  touch- 
ing, as  to  the  course  they  should  take. 

Something  must  be  done  to  stop  that  mur- 
derous ambuscade — but  what? 

"We  must  kill  him,"  said  Carter,  between 
his  teeth,  and  shivering  with  the  pain  of  his 
wounded  thigh. 

"Not  unless  we  are  obliged,"  Maurice  urged. 
"Let  the  General  deal  with  him.  He  can  shoot 
him,  or  hang  him,  if  he  thinks  fit." 

"All  right,"  said  Carter  reluctantly.    "I'd 


106  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

like  to  treat  Mm  as  a  traitor.  He  deserves 
death." 

"I  know,"  Maurice  exclaimed;  "but  I  vote 
we  make  a  prisoner  of  him." 

Carter  turned  to  Maurice  in  surprise. 

"How  can  we  do  that?" 

"I'll  explain;  then  you  shall  say  what  you 
think  my  suggestion  is  worth." 

Carter  listened,  and  when  Maurice  had  told 
exactly  what  he  meant,  he  said  shortly,  "I'm 
ready,  if  you  will  give  me  an  arm.  Never  mind 
the  pain." 

Maurice  pulled  off  his  own  boots,  then  Car- 
ter's; in  that  way  they  could  move  on  the  moss 
beneath  the  trees  soundlessly.  Then,  fingering 
their  revolvers,  and  Maurice  with  Carter's 
cloak  on  his  arm,  they  started  on  a  daring 
enterprise  which  might  very  well  bring  a  score 
of  Germans  to  deal  with  them.  Leaning  hard 
on  Maurice's  arm,  Carter  limped  along.  No 
matter  about  the  pain,  he  had  said,  yet  it  was 
agony  when  it  came  to  moving;  but  he  set  his 
teeth,  thinking  it  lucky  that  no  bone  was 
smashed,  and  that  it  was  a  flesh  wound  instead. 
The  thing  that  counted  was  to  save  the  rein- 
forcing troops  from  being  trapped  in  the  ra- 
vine, which  would  become  a  shambles  in  a  few 
minutes. 

Approaching  the  German  spy  from  behind, 
they  moved  so  silently  on  the  moss,  and  came 
so  near,  that  while  they  could  touch  the  man 
by  stretching  out  their  hands,  he  had  no  sus- 
picion of  their  presence.  His  thought  must 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  107 

have  been  that  if  any  living  men  were  at  hand, 
they  would  be  Germans,  and  he  went  on  scrib- 
bling away  at  his  notes,  which  were  to  deceive 
the  English  General. 

Dropping  Carter's  hand  off  his  arm,  Mau- 
rice flung  the  cloak  over  the  spy's  head,  and 
pulled  it  about  him  tightly  to  muffle  his  cries, 
if  he  attempted  any. 

1 '  If  you  make  a  noise,  or  move  a  little  finger, 
I'll  put  a  bullet  into  you,"  said  Carter,  whose 
face  was  wet  because  of  the  pain  he  endured 
in  this  movement.  The  spy  felt  the  cold  muzzle 
of  a  revolver  on  his  uplifted  hands,  with  which 
he  endeavored  to  throw  away  the  cloak,  and 
realizing  how  near  death  was,  he  kept  still  and 
silent. 

"Never  mind  the  cloak  now,  Millard.  I'll 
keep  him  from  shouting,  for  when  he  begins 
my  revolver  goes  off.  First  thing,  disarm  him. 
He  has  a  revolver.  Get  that  away." 

Maurice  felt  round  for  the  weapon,  drew  it 
away,  and  stuck  it  in  his  own  belt.  The  spy 
submitted  while  Maurice  strapped  his  arms 
tight  down  to  his  sides  with  his  own  belt,  and 
tore  up  the  German's  jacket  into  broad  strips 
to  bind  him  thoroughly  and  gag  him.  Before 
long  this  traitor,  who  was  to  lead  a  whole  bri- 
gade into  what  would  be  a  valley  of  death,  was 
sitting  on  the  fallen  tree,  unable  to  move  hand 
or  foot,  and  equally  incapable  of  making  a 
sound.  Maurice  knew  how  to  do  his  work,  and 
did  it  thoroughly. 

The  scheme  was  then  carried  on  to  its  next 


108  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

stage.  Not  more  than  half  a  do-zen  yards  away 
was  a  steep  slope,  the  ground  of  which  near 
the  base  was  densely  covered  with  bushes. 
Carter  was  unable  to  do  anything  because  of 
the  pain  of  his  wound,  but  Maurice,  gripping 
Eaidt  by  his  feet,  dragged  him  to  the  edge  of 
the  slope  and  toppled  the  spy  over. 

The  moon  and  the  faint  dawn  together,  by 
this  time,  served  to  show  how  the  spy  rolled 
helplessly  down  the  slope  and  disappeared 
among  the  bushes.  Carter  crawled  on  his 
hands  and  knees  to  the  edge  and  peered  over 
with  Maurice,  but  neither  of  them  could  see 
any  sign  of  the  man,  who  was  completely  hid- 
den away.  They  watched,  but  no  sign  of  stir- 
ring followed,  nor  any  sound  to  indicate  that 
the  gag  or  the  bonds  had  loosened  in  that  ter- 
rifying descent. 

"Now  be  off,  Millard,  and  carry  the  message 
to  the  camp.  Take  mine  as  well,  and  those 
notes  dropped  by  that  rascal.  They  were  on 
the  grass  by  the  tree,  but  I  picked  them  up.  It 
will  serve  to  convince  the  General  of  that  fel- 
low's murderous  plan." 

"That's  all  right,  but  I  don't  mean  to  leave 
you  here,"  Maurice  protested.  "I  will  look  to 
your  cycle,  and  we'll  go  together." 

"If  you  put  it  ever  so  right  I  can't  ride  with 
my  thigh  like  this,"  said  Carter,  whose  words 
shook  with  his  pain. 

Maurice  realized  the  force  of  the  sergeant's 
words,  and  helped  him  back  into  a  safe  place 
among  the  bushes.  There  was  a  hole  in  a  bit 


THE  GERMAN  SPY  109 

of  rising  ground,  as  if  it  had  been  scooped  out 
for  a  shelter,  and  putting  Carter  there,  and 
making  him  as  comfortable  as  was  possible, 
filling  his  water-can  and  the  sergeant's  at  a  tiny 
brook  near  by,  and  then  covering  up  the  place 
with  rough  branches,  thrown  down  carelessly 
not  to  attract  attention,  he  turned  his  attention 
to  Carter's  motor-cycle.  It  would  require  a 
great  deal  of  repair  before  it  would  be  possible 
to  ride  it  again,  but  the  question  then  was, 
what  to  do  with  it?  It  could  not  be  left  there, 
lest  it  should  betray  Carter's  presence  when 
the  daylight  came.  He  pushed  it  among  some 
bushes,  where  it  was  completely  hidden,  and 
then  looked  to  his  own  machine,  which  was 
quite  undamaged. 

After  a  grip  of  the  hand,  and  a  second  look 
to  make  sure  that  Carter  could  get  at  both 
water-flasks,  Maurice  mounted,  and  was  on  his 
way  again,  eager  by  full  speed  to  make  up  for 
lost  time. 


IX 
THE  RIDE  FOE  THE  CAMP 

MAURICE  realized  how  precious  the  time 
was,  for  it  was  easy  to  conceive  that 
the  General,  with  Raidt's  lying  mes- 
sage in  his  hand,  would  take  immediate  steps 
to  send  on  reinforcements  to  General  Medway. 
If  they  entered  the  defile  hundreds  upon  hun- 
dreds of  splendid  soldiers  would  be  trapped, 
and  the  most  magnificent  bravery  would 
scarcely  avail.  Even  if,  with  British  courage, 
they  fought  their  way  through,  the  carnage 
would  be  fearful. 

Maurice  shuddered  at  the  thought.  He  im- 
agined what  the  defile  would  be  like  if  Raidt's 
plan  succeeded.  If  the  traitorous  corporal  had 
carried  his  message  to  General  Headquarters, 
and  the  relieving  force  was  sent  instantly,  the 
brave  fellows  would  be  piled  thick  on  top  of 
one  another  with  that  terrific  fire  of  shell  and 
machine  guns  the  German  officer  had  spoken  of 
when  talking  to  Raidt. 

"I'm  going  to  do  my  level  best  to  stop 
them,"  thought  Maurice,  gripping  his  handle- 
bar tightly,  after  putting  on  full  speed.  The 
jar  of  the  machine  caused  him  great  pain,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  the  wound  in  his  head 
had  started  bleeding  again.  But  what  of  that? 

no 


THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP  111 

The  thing  that  mattered  was  to  get  his  message 
through,  for  the  reinforcements,  already  falsely 
called  for,  must  not  enter  the  defile.  They 
must  go  some  other  way. 

On  and  on  he  rode,  always  on  the  lookout, 
a  Scout  to  his  finger-tips,  for  he  knew  that  at 
any  moment  he  might  find  himself  in  the  midst 
of  a  score,  perhaps  a  hundred,  German  soldiers. 

Alert  like  this  he  saw  something  which 
seemed  to  bring  his  heart  to  his  mouth,  and  he 
slowed  down  to  lessen  the  noise  his  machine 
was  making.  The  moon  had  begun  to  lose  her 
brilliancy  because  the  day-dawn  was  more  ad- 
vanced than  when  he  said  "good-by"  to  Car- 
ter; but  with  the  combined  light  of  growing 
dawn  and  waning  moonlight,  he  saw,  in  the 
open  space  he  had  to  cross,  a  number  of  Uhlans, 
dismounted,  their  horses  cropping  the  grass 
close  by.  They  were  apparently  reconnoiter- 
ing,  ready  to  leap  into  their  saddles  and  re- 
treat if  any  British  cavalry  came  into  view; 
but  whatever  their  business,  the  thought  with 
Maurice  was  that  it  would  be  madness  to  cross 
that  open  country.  The  only  safe  course  now 
would  be  to  work  round  the  edge  of  the  forest 
until  he  got  out  of  sight  of  the  enemy's  riders. 

He  dropped  off  the  machine  and  moved  on 
silently,  keeping  in  the  shadows;  but  when  he 
thought  he  might  safely  mount  again,  since  the 
Uhlans  would  not  hear  the  sound  of  his  ma- 
chine, he  went  sprawling.  He  knew  as  he  fell 
what  had  happened.  He  had  caught  his  foot 
against  the  legs  of  a  sleeping  sentry  whom  he 


112  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

had  not  noticed  in  the  deeper  shadows  of  the 
trees. 

While  he  was  scrambling  to  his  feet  the  man 
was  stirring,  and  spoke  in  German.  Then  a 
big  hand  was  thrown  out,  and  clutched  at  Mau- 
rice, who  struggled,  and  being  wide  awake  and 
not  sleepy,  like  the  sentry,  he  wrenched  him- 
self free  and  got  away,  while  the  German  was 
still  full  length  upon  the  ground.  Before  the 
soldier  was  on  his  feet  Maurice  was  in  his 
saddle  again,  moving  quickly  amid  the  shadows 
of  the  forest ;  but  he  had  not  gone  many  yards 
when  a  shot  whizzed  past  him. 

He  did  not  pause,  for  he  knew  that  those 
Uhlans,  having  heard  a  shot  so  close,  followed 
by  a  loud  outcry,  and  another  shot,  would  be 
after  him  on  their  horses.  He  put  on  a  tre- 
mendous pace,  setting  the  motor  at  its  swift- 
est ;  but  even  then  the  danger  was  great.  Mau- 
rice went  hot  at  the  thought  of  his  flight  being 
traced  by  the  noise  of  his  machine.  It  adver- 
tised the  way  of  his  going,  and  he  was  certain 
to  bring  down  on  himself  not  only  the  gallop- 
ing horsemen,  but  shots,  possibly  from  other 
sentries,  on  the  chance  of  hitting  him. 

There  was  no  time  to  linger  over  the  pros 
and  cons — what  he  should  do,  or  what  he  should 
not  do.  His  mind  must  be  made  up  at  once, 
for  a  few  minutes  hence  it  would  be  too  late, 
and  his  message  and  warning  might  never  be 
delivered. 

"I'll  have  to  do  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
on  foot,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  must  hide  the 


THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP  113 

cycle,  and  get  round  how  I  can,  or  else  I'll  be 
caught  and  shot." 

The  forest  which  he  had  been  skirting  was 
densely  dark  a  few  yards  inside,  away  from 
the  open  country,  which  was  getting  lighter 
with  the  growing  dawn.  But  dashing  into  the 
shadows,  taking  the  risks  of  roots  and  low- 
hanging  branches,  he  came  to  a  spot  where  it 
was  so  dark  that  he  could  scarcely  see  his  hand 
before  him.  He  was  sorry  to  leave  Captain 
Kenyon's  cycle  like  this,  but  what  else  could 
he  do?  He  must  take  a  soldier's  chance  in  this 
as  in  other  things.  The  needs  of  General  Med- 
way's  brigade  were  infinitely  more  important 
than  a  two-hundred-dollar  machine,  and  equally 
as  pressing — more  so,  indeed — was  the  thought 
of  preventing  that  fearful  conflict  in  the  ravine. 

Feeling  about  with  his  hand,  afraid  to  use 
his  flash-light  lest  he  might  be  seen,  and  draw 
on  him  some  German  bullets,  he  touched  a  tree, 
and  leaned  the  machine  against  it;  but  he 
paused. 

"The  first  German  who  comes  along  will  see 
it.  If  a  bush  were  anywhere  about  I  would 
hide  it.  I'll  have  a  look  round." 

He  switched  on  his  lamp,  and  found  a  dense 
bush  a  few  yards  away,  and  in  darkness  he 
moved  forward,  pushed  into  the  midst  of  the 
bush  with  the  machine,  and  once  inside,  every- 
thing seemed  to  close  up  round  him.  He  had 
scarcely  done  this  when  there  came  the  sound 
of  galloping  hoofs.  The  sounds,  however,  died 
away,  for  the  cavalrymen  had  swept  by. 


114  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Pushing  through  the  bush,  on  the  side  of  the 
open  country,  he  moved  cautiously  from  tree  to 
tree,  taking  no  step  until  he  was  sure  of  his 
ground,  and  watchful  for  any  token  of  an  ene- 
my's nearness. 

Standing  close  up  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  he 
saw  what  he  thought  must  be  the  British  camp 
in  the  distance — a  great  sweep  of  country  cov- 
ered with  dense  blotches — not  trees,  but  every- 
thing that  would  indicate  the  presence  of  his 
countrymen;  but  all  more  or  less  undefined  in 
this  faint  light  of  day-dawn. 

That  was  the  place  where  his  journey  would 
end,  and  where  for  a  time  he  would  be  out  of 
danger.  It  did  not  seem  so  far  away,  but  Mau- 
rice was  faced  with  the  fact  that  a  hundred 
dangers  menaced  him  before  he  could  deliver 
his  message  and  give  his  warning. 

How  was  he  to  cross  that  open  space  f  Could 
he  dare  make  the  venture?  Yet  it  was  death 
for  himself  if  he  stayed  where  he  was.  Ger- 
mans were  possibly  swarming  in  this  forest 
behind  him,  having  probably  broken  through 
at  some  part  of  the  British  lines.  But  apart 
from  himself  was  that  knowledge  that  had  come 
since  he  discovered  Raidt's  treachery. 

He  did  not  hesitate  now.  He  meant  to  make 
the  venture;  but  the  question  which  was  so 
difficult  to  answer  was,  whether  he  should  ride, 
or  go  on  foot!  On  foot  he  would  have  no 
chance  if  the  Uhlans  saw  him,  for  they  would 
speedily  ride  him  down. 

"Why  not  use  the  cycle?    I'll  have  a  chance, 


115 

with  putting  on  full  speed,  of  beating  the  fast- 
est of  the  German  horses.  If  by  any  means  one 
comes  too  close — well,  I  have  this." 

His  fingers  touched  the  revolver  at  his  belt. 

"I'll  ride!" 

Hurrying  back  to  the  bush,  he  brought  out 
the  machine,  and  in  the  darkness  felt  every 
working  part  with  dexterous  fingers.  Every- 
thing was  in  order. 

With  a  muttered  prayer  for  help,  he  set  the 
machine  going,  sprang  into  his  seat,  and  made 
the  dash  just  as  some  horsemen  rode  out  of 
the  forest  a  few  hundred  yards  away.  They 
saw  him,  and  with  a  shout  they  set  the  horses 
at  the  gallop.  The  riders  evidently  had  no  care 
for  the  fact  that  if  they  fired  at  Maurice  so 
near  to  the  camp,  they  might  bring  out  a  strong 
force  of  British  cavalry.  With  them  the  in- 
tention was  to  shoot  down  this  cyclist,  who 
must  be  a  messenger,  or  cut  him  off. 

But  this  latter  was  a  thing  they  could  scarcely 
do,  for  Captain  Kenyon's  machine  seemed  to 
leap  onward,  and  bade  fair  to  outstrip  the 
fleetest  of  their  horses.  Shots  came.  Maurice, 
looking  in  the  direction  of  the  Germans,  saw 
two  of  the  riders  pull  up  and  take  deliberate 
aim;  then  something  whizzed  past  his  face.  A 
moment  later  he  felt  a  scorching  pain  in  his 
ear,  like  a  redhot  pin  piercing  the  lobe,  and 
the  blood  splashed  on  his  cheek.  But  he  did 
not  look  up.  He  looked  to  his  machine  to  see 
whether  any  greater  speed  was  possible,  and 
he  brought  it  out  to  the  last  ounce,  while  he 


116  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

tore  on  towards  the  other  side  at  a  terrific  pace. 
Any  accident  which  would  throw  him  would 
mean  death  or  maiming,  but  he  could  not  think 
of  that,  for  duty  was  like  a  spur.  He  must 
not,  he  dared  not,  fail  if  any  effort  would  carry 
him  through.  He  must  go  on,  with  all  the 
risks,  and  trust  to  God  to  keep  him. 

Shots  came  all  the  time ;  some  falling  short ; 
some  going  wide,  and  others  a  long  way  on  in 
front.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  gal- 
loping horsemen  could  take  any  true  aim,  but 
doubtless  the  Uhlans  were  firing  on  the  chance 
of  a  hit. 

Tremendous  as  the  pace  was,  Maurice 
thought  he  would  never  cross  those  yards  of 
ground  which  lay  between  him  and  the  forest 
on  the  other  side.  Gripping  the  handle-bar, 
while  the  motor-cycle  was  throbbing  in  every 
part,  he  ventured  to  look  round;  then  he  saw 
that  while  the  riders  were  struggling  up  the 
slope,  some  were  galloping  for  the  forest  edge 
he  was  riding  towards,  in  the  hope  of  cutting 
him  off.  Unless  he  could  clear  the  space  in 
time,  he  would  be  captured  or  killed. 

And  he  was  bound  to  ride  to  one  point,  which 
the  riders  knew;  for  elsewhere  there  were  Ger- 
man sentries. 

A  few  yards  more  would  bring  him  to  the 
trees  for  which  the  horsemen  were  riding,  but 
he  thrilled  when  he  saw  a  horseman  close  on 
him  on  a  side  from  which  he  did  not  think  to 
be  assailed.  The  soldier's  horse  was  plunging 
on  madly,  while  the  rider  was  holding  his  lance 


THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP          117 

for  a  thrust.  Unless  Maurice  swerved,  which 
meant  the  risk  of  a  fall,  the  cavalryman  would 
drive  his  lance  home. 

In  an  instant  the  machine  swerved  and  Mau- 
rice escaped  the  thrust,  and  he  cried  out  in 
exultation  when  he  saw  the  lancer  fly  out  of 
his  saddle  and  come  down  on  the  ground  with 
a  crash.  Maurice,  whose  heart  throbbed  at 
the  thought  of  his  escape,  was  still  in  danger, 
for  in  the  act  of  guiding  his  machine,  he  felt 
something  in  his  left  arm.  It  was  a  shot,  and 
he  screamed  involuntarily  with  the  pain;  but 
he  thought  of  the  importance  of  his  errand,  of 
all  that  hung  on  it,  and  he  gripped  the  handle- 
bar so  much  the  tighter.  Before  long  he  was 
among  the  trees. 

Afraid  to  ride  there,  where  the  morning  light 
had  not  yet  penetrated,  with  the  possibility  of 
smashing  into  a  tree,  and  being  more  maimed 
than  he  already  was,  he  jumped  off,  and  with- 
out a  hand  to  guide  it,  the  motor-cycle  fell  with 
a  crash.  He  left  it  where  it  was,  and  knowing 
his  bearings,  having  seen  the  camp  from  the 
other  side,  he  ran  in  among  the  trees  and  bore 
in  that  direction,  trembling  at  the  knees  with 
the  rush  of  that  terrific  ride.  In  his  eagerness 
to  get  away  he  forgot  everything — the  throb- 
bing pain  in  his  bandaged  head,  the  burning 
heat  in  his  wounded  ear,  and  the  arm  through 
which  a  shot  had  gone.  His  one  thought  was 
centered  on  escape  in  case  the  Uhlans  dis- 
mounted and  ventured  into  the  wood. 

It  was  what  they  would  probably  do  in  their 


118  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

daring,  and  when,  as  he  paused  a  moment  to 
avoid  a  bush,  he  looked  behind,  he  saw  what 
lent  speed  to  his  progress.  The  German 
horsemen  were  at  the  edge  of  the  forest,  for 
he  could  see  their  forms,  shown  up  in  the  early 
morning  light  in  which  they  moved.  Some  had 
already  dropped  out  of  their  saddles,  leaving 
their  panting  horses  to  stand,  and  then  they 
scattered  among  the  trees  to  find  him. 

Regardless  of  the  branches  which  sometimes 
struck  his  face,  and  the  roots  over  which  at 
odd  times  he  stumbled,  Maurice  went  on;  but 
unexpectedly  a  cry  of  dismay  broke  from  his 
lips. 

"I  am  surrounded!"  he  exclaimed;  for  he 
saw,  not  very  much  deeper  in  the  forest,  some 
horses  moving  swiftly  in  and  out  among  the 
trees,  some  as  if  moving  towards  him,  and 
others  travelling  on  through  the  denser  parts 
towards  the  topmost  portion  of  the  great  open 
space  he  had  just  crossed  in  such  peril.  But 
before  many  moments  had  gone,  while  the 
horses  seemed  to  come  on  endlessly,  another 
cry — this  time  of  joy — escaped  him.  The  riders 
proved  to  be  in  khaki,  and  he  knew  that  the 
cavalrymen  were  British  soldiers. 

"Stand  back!"  came  a  loud  call  from  an 
officer  who  rode  on  in  front,  and  Maurice,  obey- 
ing the  order,  hurried  out  of  what  was  likely 
to  be  the  path  of  the  horsemen.  While  doing 
so  he  heard  a  shout  of  dismay,  and  glancing 
backwards,  he  saw  the  German  soldiers,  who 
had  followed  him  into  the  forest,  racing  back 


THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP          119 

with  the  intention  of  getting  to  their  horses. 
But  at  the  moment  came  the  order  to  advance, 
and  there  was  a  rush  of  British  cavalry  through 
the  woods,  the  horsemen  clearing  every  ob- 
stacle, and  moving  among  the  trees  as  though 
they  knew  every  inch  of  the  way.  For  the 
time  Maurice  forgot  himself,  and  was  fasci- 
nated with  the  fight  which  followed.  Those 
who  had  been  his  pursuers  were  overwhelmed, 
and  such  as  were  not  killed  in  that  hot  melee 
were  taken  prisoners. 

Exultant  at  the  undoing  of  the  Germans  who 
had  so  nearly  become  his  captors,  Maurice 
stepped  backward  to  have  a  clearer  view  of 
what  was  being  done  lower  down  the  valley; 
but  something  unexpected  happened.  He  had 
not  seen  how  near  he  was  to  danger,  and  he 
felt  himself  rolling  down  a  slope.  In  the 
downward  plunge  he  was  suddenly  flung  out 
in  mid-air,  only  to  crash  somewhere  lower 
down.  A  few  seconds  later  he  was  struggling 
in  deep  water,  and  when,  with  a  swimmer's 
instinct,  he  struck  out  and  came  to  the  surface, 
he  found  himself  in  a  broad  stream,  with  high 
and  precipitous  banks  on  either  side. 

The  cold  water  revived  him,  and  swimming 
to  the  further  side,  away  from  the  cliff  down 
which  he  had  plunged  so  unexpectedly,  he 
crawled  out  painfully.  While  doing  so  he 
heard  the  challenge  of  a  sentry. 

"A  friend!"  Maurice  cried.  "I  want  to  get 
to  Headquarters,"  he  gasped,  water  streaming 
from  every  corner  of  his  clothes. 


120  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"What  did  you  say  about  Headquarters !" 
the  soldier  exclaimed,  alert,  his  bayonet  point 
at  Maurice's  breast,  and  his  fingers  danger- 
ously near  to  the  trigger  of  his  rifle. 

"I  have  dispatches  from  General  Medway, 
and  it's  a  matter  of  life  and  death  that  the 
General  gets  them  at  once,"  said  Maurice,  full 
of  pain,  and  brushing  the  water  from  his  eyes. 

"You're  hurt,"  said  the  soldier,  changing  to 
a  kindly  torie,  dropping  the  butt  end  of  his  rifle 
on  the  ground,  and  tenderly  holding  up  Mau- 
rice's face  to  look  at  him.  "What!  And  this 
arm  done  for?  Look  here,  old  chap !  Suppose 
you  climb  up  that  path,  and  when  you  get  to 
the  top,  make  for  the  ambulance  tents  straight 
away.  You'll  find  them  over  yonder,"  the  sol- 
dier added,  pointing  out  the  direction. 

"Not  till  I've  seen  the  General  in  Command," 
said  Maurice  sturdily,  although  his  knees  were 
trembling,  and  he  was  shifting  the  wet  bandage 
a  trifle  with  a  shaking  hand. 

"Then  hurry  on,  old  fellow,"  the  soldier  ex- 
claimed, struck  with  Maurice's  determination. 
"When  you  get  to  the  top,  bear  away  a  little 
to  the  right,  and  you  ought  to  find  some  horse- 
men, and  a  battery  of  artillery.  I'd  go  with 
you,  but  I  dare  not  leave  my  post.  A  lot  of 
Germans  are  about  here  somewhere,  and  there's 
going  to  be  a  bit  of  rough  fighting  soon.  But 
go  ahead,  and  tell  'em  what  you've  just  told 
me." 

In  spite  of  his  pain  and  exhaustion,  Maurice 
struggled  up  the  winding  path,  sometimes 


121 

clutching  at  tufts  of  grass  and  jutting  pieces 
of  rock  to  keep  himself  from  slipping  back  to 
the  river,  and  after  what  seemed  to  him  an 
endless  climb,  he  stood  on  the  top.  A  sentry 
stopped  him  the  moment  he  set  his  foot  on  the 
grass  up  there;  but  before  Maurice  could  an- 
swer the  challenge  he  had  to  hold  tight  to  a 
tree  to  steady  himself.  He  was  soddened,  still 
dripping,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand. 

A  horseman  rode  forward  while  the  sentry 
gave  his  challenge. 

"Who  goes  there?"  the  rider  cried,  his  re- 
volver gleaming  in  the  early  morning  light. 

"I  am  come  from  General  Medway,"  Mau- 
rice faltered,  as  the  horse  pulled  up  suddenly 
at  his  side.  "I  am  bringing  urgent  dispatches 
for  the  Divisional  Commander." 

"You  seem  to  have  had  a  rough  time  of  it," 
said  the  officer  kindly,  bending  low  in  his  sad- 
dle, for  he  saw  how  Maurice  swayed,  and  saw, 
as  well,  that  he  was  badly  hurt.  "Give  me  the 
papers,  and  I  will  take  them  to  the  General,  and 
send  a  man  with  you  to  the  hospital." 

"I  can't  do  that,  sir,"  Maurice  said,  saluting, 
but  clutching  at  the  Captain's  stirrup  to  keep 
on  his  feet.  "The  General's  orders  were  that 
I  was  to  give  the  dispatches  into  no  other 
hands  than  the  General's,  and  rather  than  the 
Germans  should  get  them,  I  was  to  swallow 
them." 

The  Captain  laughed. 

"You  came  pretty  near  to  eating  point,  by 
the  look  of  you,"  he  said;  then  turning  in  his 


122  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

saddle,  and  resting  his  hand  on  his  horse's 
flank,  he  called  to  a  corporal. 

"Take  this  plucky  fellow  straight  to  the  Gen- 
eral. No  one  is  to  hinder  him,  and  tell  any- 
body who  thinks  to  do  so  that  I  say  he  is  to 
see  the  General  at  once,  because  his  business  is 
a  matter  of  grave  importance.  'Tis  that,  isn't 
it?"  he  added,  turning  to  Maurice. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Maurice,  quietly,  gripping 
the  stirrup  still  more  tightly,  and  even  then 
finding  it  difficult  to  keep  on  his  feet.  He  was 
wondering  how  he  was  to  go  as  far  as  Head- 
quarters, which  were  miles  away. 

"Put  him  into  a  saddle  at  once.  Find  a 
motor-car  if  you  can,  Simson,  and  commandeer 
it.  It  will  save  time  for  one  thing,  and  make 
the  going  for  him  easier,  for  another.  But 
stay,"  the  Captain  added,  with  concern,  look- 
ing down  at  Maurice,  and  noticing  how  blood 
was  running  over  the  hand  which  hung  help- 
lessly at  his  side.  "There's  a  bit  of  First  Aid 
wanted  before  you  leave  us." 

The  officer  dropped  out  of  his  saddle  as  he 
spoke,  and  slitting  up  the  sleeve  with  his 
pocket-knife,  he  looked  at  Maurice's  wounded 
arm. 

"I'll  make  it  easier,  old  man,"  he  said,  with 
a  kindness  which  made  him  so  much  loved  by 
his  men;  but  at  the  moment,  when  he  chanced 
to  look  round,  he  saw  a  Ked  Cross  nurse  ap- 
proaching. 

"The  very  thing!"  he  cried.  "Here,  Sister! 
We  want  a  bit  of  quick  work,  for  time  is 


THE  RIDE  FOR  THE  CAMP          123 

precious.  Come  and  look  at  this  wound,  and 
bandage  it  to  last  an  hour  or  two;  but  don't 
be  more  than  three  minutes  about  it!'* 

The  Sister  came  up  to  them  swiftly,  and 
with  dexterous  and  gentle  hands  she  bound  up 
the  wound,  and  a  few  moments  later  Maurice, 
feeling  the  relief,  found  himself  being  lifted 
by  two  men  into  a  saddle. 

"Go  as  hard  as  he  can  stand  it,  Simson,  but 
commandeer  the  first  motor  you  see,"  said  the 
Captain,  giving  the  reins  into  Maurice's  un- 
injured hand.  "Do  your  business  with  the 
General,  and  then  go  into  hospital." 

He  stood  back  and  watched  Maurice  ride 
away. 

* '  The  plucky  chap ! "  he  muttered.  ' '  At  most, 
in  spite  of  his  size,  he's  only  a  boy.  But  he's 
got  some  grit  in  him.  And  he  will  have  run 
the  gauntlet  with  those  Uhlans  on  the  slope." 


AT  HEADQUARTERS 

"TT  TOW  far  is  it  to  the  General's  quar- 
ters'?" Maurice  asked  Simson,  when 
they  were  fairly  on  the  road. 

"A  matter  o'  four  miles,"  the  corporal  an- 
swered, kindly,  looking  at  his  companion  with 
great  concern,  wondering  to  himself  whether 
he  could  hold  out  long  enough  to  cover  the  dis- 
tance. "I'll  look  out  sharp  for  a  motor-car, 
an'  we'll  get  there  in  no  time  if  we're  that 
lucky." 

The  soldier  gazed  about  in  all  directions, 
trying  to  find  some  easier  and  quicker  mode  of 
transit  than  the  horses,  but  he  could  see  none. 

"We'll  come  across  somethin'  presently," 
he  said,  to  encourage  Maurice,  who  felt  the  jar 
to  his  wounds  as  the  horse  he  rode  covered  the 
ground  at  a  good  pace.  He  wanted  to  go  more 
quickly  still.  He  was  so  eager  that  he  would 
have  urged  the  horse  to  a  gallop,  whatever  the 
pain;  but  Simson  would  not  allow  it,  and  bent 
sideways  more  than  once  to  catch  at  Maurice 's 
rein  to  make  his  horse  slacken  speed. 

Maurice  rode  on  more  like  one  in  a  dream 
as  they  wound  in  and  out  among  the  lines  of 
motor-vans,  and  the  enormous  stores  that  were 
all  around  them.  Gun  batteries,  horses  pick- 

124 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  125 

eted,  bodies  of  troops  on  the  move,  aeroplanes 
ready  for  flight,  or  undergoing  repairs,  shoe- 
ing forges,  with  horses  waiting  to  be  shod, 
rows  upon  rows  of  ammunition  wagons,  and 
amid  it  all  soldiers  who  were  not  too  tired  to 
sing,  and  in  such  splendid  spirits  that  it  was 
difficult  to  believe  that  they  had  been  face  to 
face  with  death  not  many  hours  before.  And 
over  it  all  the  dim  and  distant  sounds  of  artil- 
lery, always  heard  and  never  ceasing. 

Maurice  took  no  notice  of  any  of  it,  for  he 
was  in  too  much  pain.  He  was  trying  his  hard- 
est to  keep  his  head,  as  he  put  it  to  himself — 
to  hold  out  until  he  had  told  his  story  of  that 
plan  to  get  the  troops  into  ambush,  and  hand 
in  his  dispatches.  But  it  was  difficult  work. 
Presently  he  shut  his  eyes,  leaving  it  to  the 
corporal  to  look  after  his  going,  and  take  him 
to  his  destination. 

He  opened  his  eyes  when  the  soldier  shouted 
unexpectedly : 

"Hi!    Stop  there!" 

Maurice  looked  about  and  saw  a  motor-car 
coming  to  a  standstill,  and  the  driver,  gripping 
the  wheel,  staring  back  to  know  what  he  was 
wanted  for. 

" Where  are  you  goin'?"  Simson  asked,  as 
he  drew  up  alongside  the  car. 

"To  British  Headquarters." 

"That's  the  ticket!"  the  corporal  cried. 
"I'll  fasten  these  'osses  somewheres,  an'  then, 
old  man,  you'll  take  us  both  aboard  an'  drive 
for  all  you're  worth  to  the  General.  There's 


126  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

the  safety  of  a  army  at  stake,  an'  this  wounded 
soldier's  got  a  dispatch  as  is  marked  ' ur- 
gent.' " 

The  cavalryman  had  dismounted,  and  was 
looking  round  to  see  where  he  could  fasten  the 
horses.  His  sharp  eyes  found  a  place,  and 
lifting  Maurice  out  of  his  saddle,  heavy  though 
he  was,  he  carried  him  gently  to  the  car. 

"I've  bin  a  railway  porter  in  my  time,  an' 
used  to  carryin'  'eavy  weights,"  he  explained, 
as  he  put  Maurice  down  on  the  seat,  and 
climbed  up  to  make  him  comfortable. 

11  'E's  badly  'urt,  but  we'll  make  'im  easy. 
Them  lovin'-'earted  Germans  tried  to  pot  'im, 
as  they  know'd  'e  'ad  some  valuable  writin'- 
paper  stowed  away  somewhere,"  he  said,  as 
he  rearranged  Maurice  in  the  corner,  to  make 
him  easier.  "An',  my  word!  they  came  pretty 
nigh  to  it!" 

Maurice  felt  the  intense  relief  of  being  able 
to  lie  back  against  soft  cushions,  instead  of 
having  to  sit  up  stiff  in  a  saddle. 

"Any  mischief  moving?"  the  chauffeur 
asked,  when  he  had  carefully  tucked  the  rug 
round  Maurice,  wondering  how  he  came  to  be 
soaking  wet,  since  there  had  been  no  rain  for 
several  days. 

The  chauffeur  gave  him  something  to  drink 
out  of  his  flask,  and  it  so  revived  Maurice  that 
he  was  able  to  'talk,  telling  briefly  the  story  of 
the  night  ride  and  the  fall  into  the  river. 

The  men  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"They'll  give  you  a  medal,  or  a  cross,  or 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  127 

somethin'  o'  that  sort,  chappie,"  the  corporal 
exclaimed,  speaking  from  the  footboard,  where 
he  was  sitting,  not  to  make  Maurice  uncom- 
fortable. 

"The  road  looks  clear  now,"  said  the  chauf- 
feur presently.  "I'll  let  her  go  at  top  speed, 
if  the  moments  are  as  precious  as  that!  I've 
heard  that  a  scout — that  beast  of  a  German 
you've  told  us  of — came  in  to  say  that  all  was 
clear,  and  the  Commander,  anxious  about  Gen- 
eral Medway  holding  out  against  the  fierce  at- 
tacks, has  ordered  a  whole  division." 

"Has  it  started?"  Maurice  asked  eagerly, 
and  in  the  forgetfulness  of  his  wounds  leaning 
forward  suddenly,  only  to  gasp  with  pain. 

"Not  yet.  There's  to  be  a  lot  of  artillery 
as  well,  and  that  takes  time,  which  is  a  bless- 
ing for  once,"  the  chauffeur  exclaimed,  sending 
the  car  on  still  more  rapidly. 

The  car  pulled  up,  and  Maurice,  half  dream- 
ing that  his  mother  was  by  his  side,  became 
wide  awake.  He  was  alert  in  an  instant,  and 
in  spite  of  the  pain  he  pulled  himself  together 
and  looked  about. 

"Headquarters?"  he  asked  the  corporal,  who 
was  already  off  the  car,  and  carefully  moving 
the  rug  away  from  Maurice's  body. 

"Yes,  old  man.  'Tis  here  you'll  find  the 
British  General.  He  came  here  yesterday. 
Don't  you  see  them  two  wisps  o'  flags  over  the 
door?  Excuse  me  a  minute.  There's  a  Staff 
Officer  yonder,  an'  I'll  tell  'im  what  your  busi- 
ness is." 


128  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Maurice  leaned  forward  in  his  seat,  and  saw 
the  kind-hearted  soldier  step  up  to  an  officer 
and  salute  him.  What  the  corporal  said  he 
could  not  tell,  but  the  officer,  who  seemed  a 
giant  alongside  the  cavalryman,  came  forward 
with  swift  strides,  and  standing  by  the  car,  re- 
turned Maurice's  salute. 

"The  corporal  tells  me  you  have  dispatches 
for  the  General,"  he  said  kindly,  looking  in 
surprise  at  Maurice's  bandaged  head  and 
slinged  arm.  "You  seem  to  have  been  in  the 
wars,"  he  added,  in  some  concern.  "Don't 
move.  Give  me  the  dispatches,  and  you  shall 
be  driven  straight  off  to  hospital." 

"I  daren't  give  them  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mau- 
rice, in  a  tone  which  surprised  the  officer,  and 
assured  him  that  he  had  a  soldier  before  him 
who  might  well  have  ranked  as  an  officer  by 
his  tone.  "General  Medway  said  that  I  was 
to  give  my  verbal  message  and  his  dispatch  into 
no  hands  other  than  the  General  at  Headquar- 
ters, and  I  must  obey  orders,  sir." 

The  officer  laughed. 

"If  it's  that  way  you  shall  see  the  General 
at  once.  He  has  just  come  from  a  round  of 
inspection,  but  he  is  in  the  house.  Let  me  give 
you  a  hand,  and  we'll  go  to  him."  He  said  as 
much  about  the  "hand"  because  he  saw  Mau- 
rice's face  drawn  with  pain,  and  his  intense 
weariness  in  spite  of  his  effort  to  appear 
alert. 

He  felt  that  Maurice's  clothes  were  sod- 
dened. 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  129 

" What's  the  meaning  of  that?"  he  asked,  in 
surprise. 

"I  had  to  swim  the  river,  sir." 

"Then  go  at  once  to  the  hospital,  my  lad,  and 
get  out  of  your  wet  things.  You'll  be  having 
rheumatic  fever,  or  something  of  that  sort," 
the  Colonel  said,  in  great  concern. 

"Let  me  give  in  my  papers  to  the  General, 
sir,  and  tell  him  something  that  is  startling 
and  serious,  and  then  I  think  I'll  be  glad  to 
go,"  said  Maurice,  the  weariness  of  whose  voice 
did  not  escape  the  Staff  Officer's  attention.  He 
helped  him  out  of  the  car  gently,  and  set  him 
on  his  feet,  but  Maurice  staggered. 

"Take  my  arm,  lad,  and  lean  hard,"  said 
the  Colonel.  "Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Going  through  the  gateway,  and  along  the 
path  to  the  old  chateau,  where  officers  and  sol- 
diers loitered,  and  motor-cycles  were  on  their 
props,  ready  for  instant  use,  the  Colonel  paused 
before  they  had  walked  far. 

"This  won't  do,  my  lad,"  he  said  quietly. 
"I'll  have  to  carry  you,  or  you  won't  have 
strength  left  even  to  talk  to  the  General." 

Bending  down,  he  picked  Maurice  up  in  his 
strong  arms,  and  in  spite  of  his  weight,  carried 
him  gently  up  the  steps  to  the  terrace,  into  the 
hall,  and  passing  through  it,  entered  a  room 
at  whose  door  a  sentry  stood. 

The  General  looked  up,  and  was  taken  by 
surprise,  like  others  who  were  standing  in  the 
room  receiving  instructions. 


130  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  asked,  his 
eyes  wide  open,  and  his  face  full  of  astonish- 
ment at  seeing  one  of  his  Staff  Officers  so  bur- 
dened. 

"A  messenger,  General,  who  is  lucky  to  have 
got  through  alive.  He  comes  from  General 
Medway  with  dispatches  which  he  was  strictly 
ordered  to  give  into  no  hand  but  yours.  He 
has  been  badly  knocked  about  by  the  Germans, 
and  I  thought  it  best  to  bring  him  in  like  this, 
since  it  seemed  so  difficult  and  painful  for  him 
to  move." 

While  the  Colonel  spoke  he  set  Maurice  on 
his  feet,  but  although  Maurice  saluted,  Colonel 
Newton  barely  saved  him  from  falling. 

" Where  are  the  dispatches?"  the  General 
asked,  looking  grave  when  he  saw  how  roughly 
the  young  messenger  had  been  treated. 

"Here,  sir." 

Maurice  attempted  to  pull  them  out  of  their 
different  hiding-places,  while  those  who  stood 
around  watched  intently,  and  thought  how 
young  he  was,  in  spite  of  his  stalwart  frame 
which  had  taxed  Colonel  Newton's  strength  to 
carry.  One  of  the  officers  saw  how  difficult  it 
was  for  him  to  stand,  and  brought  a  chair. 

"Sit  on  that.  It  will  be  better  for  you," 
he  said  kindly. 

Colonel  Newton  drew  the  papers  away,  limp 
and  sodden,  and  while  the  General  opened  them 
the  others  waited  in  silence. 

"That  is  serious,"  he  exclaimed;  "but  is  the 
division  ready  to  start,  Colonel?" 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  131 

"Yes,  sir.  The  Commander  only  awaits 
final  instructions  from  you,  sir.  He  is  going 
to  take  the  defile  as  the  shortest  cut,  since  it 
is  free  of  Germans." 

"He  must  not!"  cried  Maurice  eagerly,  and 
every  eye  was  turned  on  him,  all  in  the  room 
amazed  at  his  temerity. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  the 
General ;  his  knowledge  of  men,  and  quick  com- 
prehension, told  him  that  there  was  a  reason 
for  that  outburst. 

"The  defile  is  ambushed,  General!" 

Without  waiting  for  questions,  Maurice,  for- 
getful of  pain  and  weariness,  told  of  his  pas- 
sage through  the  defile  and  the  forest,  of  Car- 
ter being  left  behind,  of  Baidt's  treachery,  and 
of  the  danger  that  awaited  the  division  if  it 
moved  up  the  ravine. 

4 '  Tell  me  what  this  man  whom  you  call  Eaidt 
was  like,"  said  the  General,  leaning  forward 
on  the  table,  watching  Maurice,  and  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  his  statement.  His  wounds 
were  evidence  of  the  reality  of  his  story  that 
the  Germans  were  near. 

"I  saw  his  face,  General,  as  we  rolled  him 
over  into  the  ravine.  There  was  a  sword  slash 
across  his  forehead  and  down  his  cheek;  and 
while  I  was  tying  his  hands  I  saw  that  the  third 
finger  on  his  left  hand  was  gone." 

The  General  sat  back,  stern  and  silent.  What 
he  said  a  few  moments  later  Maurice  did  not 
hear,  for  the  room  and  everything  in  it — the 
General,  the  table  at  which  he  sat,  the  officers 


132  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

standing  round — were  swaying.  Then  to  Mau- 
rice the  room,  although  the  sun  was  shining 
through  the  window,  was  plunged  into  absolute 
darkness,  and  he  felt  himself  falling  forward. 
A  moment  more,  and  all  consciousness  was 
gone. 


XI 

PEOMOTION 

"T  SUPPOSE  I'm  in  hospital,"  said  Mau- 
rice, when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  saw 
that  he  was  in  a  great  and  beautifully 
decorated  room  like  a  banqueting  hall,  which 
evidently  was  part  of  an  old  French  chateau, 
and  now  was  crowded  with  pallet  beds  in  which 
wounded  soldiers  were  lying.  Red  Cross 
nurses  were  moving  in  and  out  among  the  beds, 
bending  over  the  soldiers  to  do  something  for 
the  poor  fellows  who  were  smarting  with  the 
pain  of  the  wounds  they  had  received  in  the 
trenches. 

"How  did  I  get  here?"  he  asked,  with  a 
puzzled  look  on  his  face.  "I  can't  remember. 
Yes,  but  I  do ! "  he  said,  a  minute  later,  wincing 
with  pain,  because  he  had  happened  to  move  in 
his  bed.  "Let  me  see,"  he  went  on,  knitting 
his  brows  to  think  more  clearly.  "Yes,  that's 
it.  I  was  standing  in  the  room  telling  the 
General  about  my  ride,  and  the  ambush,  when 
the  room  went  round  and  round;  so  I  suppose 
they  brought  me  here." 

"How  did  I  come  here,  nurse?"  he  asked  of 
a  bright-faced  girl  in  nurse's  costume,  and  a 
red  cross  on  her  breast,  when  she  came  to  his 
bedside  in  answer  to  his  beckoning  hand. 

133 


134.  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"They  brought  you  in  two  days  ago,  and  you 
were  in  a  dreadful  state,"  she  answered  pleas- 
antly; "but  not  half  so  bad  as  some  of  these 
poor  fellows.  There's  one  there,"  she  said  in 
half  a  whisper,  "who  will  never  get  better; 
perhaps  he  won't  get  through  the  day;  nor  that 
one  in  the  fourth  pallet  from  here.  But  never 
mind  that.  Let  me  talk  about  yourself.  We  're 
soon  going  to  get  you  better,"  the  nurse  added 
briskly,  putting  Maurice's  pillow  comfortable, 
and  gently  smoothing  the  bandage  at  his  fore- 
head. 

"I  don't  remember  coming,  not  in  the  least," 
said  Maurice,  turning  to  look  at  the  nurse  more 
easily,  but  the  movement  gave  him  such  pain 
that  he  winced,  and  the  nurse  had  to  wipe  the 
dampness  off  his  face. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  do,  for  Colonel  Newton 
— what  a  great,  strong  man  he  is ! — brought  you 
in  his  arms,  and  you're  not  a  small  one  by  any 
means,"  the  nurse  added,  smiling.  "He  set 
you  down  in  this  spare  bed,  and  undressed  you 
as  gently  as  though  he  had  been  a  woman,  and 
then  told  us  to  take  care  of  you  because  you 
had  done  something  heroic,  and  they  want  you 
well  again." 

Maurice's  face  grew  hot,  and  in  spite  of  his 
pain  he  thrilled  with  pleasure  to  think  that  he 
had  this  reward  after  that  dangerous  night 
ride. 

"Here  is  Colonel  Newton  coming,"  the  nurse 
said,  a  few  moments  later,  when  she  had  given 
Maurice  something  to  drink,  for  his  mouth  was 


PROMOTION  135 

hot  and  parched,  and  he  was  thirsty  beyond 
words.  The  Colonel  came  to  his  side  and  sat 
on  the  bed  gently,  not  to  jar  Maurice  with  the 
movement. 

''You've  come  to  yourself  again,  Millard," 
he  said,  having  shaken  Maurice  by  the  hand 
with  a  friendly  greeting.  "The  General  asked 
me  to  see  how  you  were  getting  on.  I  came 
yesterday,  but  you  were  either  sleeping,  or  still 
unconscious." 

"Unconscious,  Colonel,"  exclaimed  the  nurse 
who  was  bending  over  the  soldier  in  the  next 
bed,  but  heard  what  was  said.  ' '  He  only  came 
back  to  himself  ten  minutes  ago." 

Maurice  was  eager  to  ask  some  questions. 

"Did  I  come  in  time  to  save  the  reinforcing 
division  from  going  up  the  defile?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

"Just  in  time.  They  were  told  to  take  an- 
other route,  but  although  it  took  longer,  they 
got  to  General  Medway  at  the  right  moment.  I 
hear  that  what  followed  was  one  of  the  finest 
bits  of  work  we  have  had  for  some  time.  The 
Germans  were  hurling  themselves  on  General 
Medway,  wave  after  wave  on  his  narrow  front. 
What  began  as  a  bit  of  a  scrap  ended  in  a 
tremendous  battle,  and  for  a  time  it  was  a  toss- 
up  who  was  going  to  win ;  but  our  fellows  held 
their  ground  magnificently  all  through  the 
night  while  you  were  riding  to  us.  During  the 
morning  the  reinforcing  division  came  up,  and 
from  defending,  Medway 's  men,  as  soon  as  they 


136  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

saw  the  reinforcements  coming,  made  such  a 
rush  that  the  Germans  scurried  off  like  rabbits 
to  find  shelter  in  their  second  line  trenches. 
The  new  men  came  up,  in  spite  of  their  tiring 
march,  and  getting  close  on  the  Germans '  heels, 
bayoneted  many  of  them.  In  running  they 
threw  away  everything — 'all  their  ballast' — as 
one  of  the  men  put  it.'* 

In  spite  of  his  pain  Maurice  smiled  to  think 
his  mission  had  not  failed. 

"I  expect  those  Germans  on  the  defile  were 
put  out,  sir?"  he  said  presently,  looking  into 
the  Colonel's  smiling  face. 

"Put  out  in  more  ways  than  one,  Millard. 
You  can  trust  our  Chief  for  knowing  how  to 
frustrate  the  Germans.  He  put  ten  thousand 
men  on  the  move  within  the  hour,  after  he  had 
carefully  studied  his  map,  and  it  came  to  be  a 
case  of  the  biter  bit.  Our  men  got  completely 
round  the  defile,  and  unknown  to  them,  since 
everything  was  done  so  well  and  so  quietly,  the 
Germans  were  hemmed  in  completely.  Before 
they  were  aware,  and  while,  indeed,  they  were 
lying  low,  not  to  be  seen,  a  battalion  of  our 
men  was  seen  approaching  from  the  wood.  The 
Germans  were  waiting  to  give  them  a  warm 
reception  when  they  were  amazed  to  find  them- 
selves within  a  ring  of  British  gun  fire.  A  rain 
of  shells  poured  on  them,  and  the  destructive 
work  of  our  machine  guns  filled  them  with 
panic. 

"I  was  there  and  saw  a  great  deal  of  it. 
Whichever  way  the  Germans  looked  there  was 


PROMOTION  137 

no  sign  of  men ;  yet  our  infantry  were  close  on 
them,  and  at  the  firing  of  a  rocket  the  cry  broke 
from  thousands  of  lips,  there  was  a  rush,  and 
a  terrific  hand-to-hand  fight  began.  The  guns 
ceased  fire,  or  they  would  have  destroyed  our 
own  men  as  well  as  Germans.  It  was  some- 
thing to  hear  our  men  cheering,  and  above  all 
the  noise  of  guns  to  hear  the  skirl  of  the  pipes, 
and  then  to  see  our  charge  into  the  midst  of  the 
German  troops  with  the  bayonet.  There  was 
only  one  end  possible,  for  those  of  the  enemy 
who  were  not  killed  flung  up  their  hands  and 
became  prisoners." 

Maurice 's  eyes  kindled  as  the  story  went  on. 
He  so  far  forgot  himself  that  he  sat  up  in  the 
bed  to  watch  the  Colonel,  and  even  the  pain  of 
the  movement  was  forgotten  in  his  exultation 
at  this  ruin  of  the  enemy's  plan. 

"What  about  Carter,  sir?"  he  asked 
anxiously. 

"We  found  him  in  a  great  state  of  exhaus- 
tion, and  he's  here,  somewhere;  not  in  this 
ward, ' '  the  Colonel  added,  when  he  saw  Maurice 
looking  at  the  beds  about  him.  "They  say  he's 
doing  well.  The  fact  is,  I  found  him  myself,  for 
you  told  us  so  plainly  where  to  look  for  him." 

"And  Raidt,  sir?" 

"The  traitor?"  exclaimed  the  Colonel  scorn- 
fully. "We  found  him,  too,  and  he  was  shot 
within  an  hour  of  being  court-martialed.  He 
had  papers  and  plans  on  him  which  accounted 
for  one  or  two  disastrous  episodes  which  none 
of  us  at  Headquarters  could  understand." 


138  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

The  Colonel  shook  Maurice  by  the  hand  when 
he  got  up  from  the  bedside  to  go  away. 

"By  the  way,  Millard,  the  military  authori- 
ties have  awarded  you  a  commission.  You  are 
a  sub-lieutenant  now;  and  something  more  is 
coming,  for  they  have  received  a  report  of  your 
rescue  of  Major  Grey  in  the  trenches,  and  have 
mentioned  you  in  the  dispatch  which  went  to 
England  this  morning. ' ' 

It  was  almost  more  than  Maurice  could  bear. 
There  was  that  splendid  news  of  the  victory  at 
the  front,  which  alone  repaid  him  for  all  the 
danger  he  had  braved  in  his  night  ride;  and 
then  there  was  that  surprise  for  the  Germans 
who  planned  the  ambush.  To  crown  it  all  there 
was  this  unexpected  promotion  for  himself. 
Before  he  could  recover  from  his  astonishment 
the  Colonel  was  gone,  and  was  disappearing  at 
the  doorway  when  Maurice  looked  up. 

In  two  or  three  days  Maurice  was  able  to 
write  home,  and  among  the  many  things  he  had 
to  tell  as  to  his  adventures  "somewhere  in 
France"  was  this  news  of  his  promotion. 
There  were  some  loving  words  for  his  mother, 
and  some  anxious  questions  about  Marjorie. 
When  this  was  done,  he  sank  in  his  bed,  and  did 
what  his  nurse  told  him  was  best  to  do — rest 
and  sleep  and  get  well,  the  sooner  to  put  on 
his  new  uniform.  Long  before  he  was  fit  to 
leave  hospital,  but  able  to  sit  up,  or  lounge  in 
the  sunshine,  he  was  deep  in  the  study  of  some 
handbooks  the  Colonel  brought  him,  as  to  his 
duties  as  a  young  officer. 


PROMOTION  139 

A  letter  came  one  morning  from  home  which 
gave  him  pleasure,  but  also  made  him  anxious. 


DEAR  BOY,  (the  letter  ran), 

"Your  mother  and  I  are  proud  of  you.  The 
General  was  too  busy  to  write,  for  he  has  so 
many  things  to  do,  and  so  much  on  his  mind, 
but  he  asked  Colonel  Newton  to  write  for  him, 
to  tell  us  of  your  night  ride  and  what  it  cost 
you.  Your  mother  was  for  going  to  France 
that  same  day  to  nurse  you,  but  we  dissuaded 
her,  especially  since  arrangements  were  made 
to  let  us  hear  every  two  or  three  days  how  you 
are  getting  on. 

"It  was  nothing  more,  my  boy,  than  what  we 
expected  of  you.  That  fine  idea  which  a  soldier 
ought  to  have  —  to  do  his  duty  without  counting 
the  cost  to  himself  —  has  been  the  one  thing  we 
know  you  would  not  forget  ;  and  you  see  what  it 
has  led  to.  Your  General's  army  was  saved, 
and  the  German  ambush  ruined.  Now  you  are 
what  we  hoped  you  would  be,  and  what  we  are 
prouder  of  because  you  won  your  new  rank. 

"Your  mother  is  glad  to  think  that  you 
treasure  her  Bible.  It  was  something  to  know 
it  was  a  protection  to  you.  It  will  be  of  still 
greater  service  if  you  live  up  to  what  is  printed 
in  its  pages.  You  say  you  will  try,  and  we 
believe  you  will. 

"We  are  anxious  about  Marjorie.  I  left 
home,  as  you  know,  to  find  her;  but  while  I  had 
permission  to  travel  as  far  as  Paris,  thinking 
to  get  on  from  there  to  the  town  where  her 
school  was,  things  were  so  serious,  and  the 
roads  so  blocked,  that  the  authorities,  while 
very  kind,  and  anxious  to  oblige  me  if  they 
could,  declined  to  give  me  a  permit  to  go  for- 


140  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

ward.  But  they  promised  to  send  orders  on 
that  she  and  all  who  were  in  the  school  should 
be  removed  out  of  the  danger  zone.  That  was 
better  than  nothing !" 

Maurice  read  the  last  paragraph  about  his 
sister  again  and  again,  and  wondered  where 
Marjorie  was,  or  whether  she  had  fallen,  like  so 
many  others,  be-fore  the  German  onslaught, 
when  the  enemy  came  on  so  ruthlessly,  batter- 
ing down  houses,  ill-treating  and  murdering  all 
they  came  across.  Before  the  day  was  out  he 
was  thrilling  with  anxiety,  for  news  came 
that,  weeks  before,  the  Germans  had  marched 
through  the  town  where  Marjorie  was  at  school, 
and  with  their  usual  cruelty  had  driven  out  or 
killed  the  people  who  remained  there,  and  then 
had  set  fire  to  the  half-timbered  houses,  leaving 
the  place  in  ruins,  and  the  streets  full  of  the 
dead. 

The  one  hope  with  Maurice  was  that,  when 
news  came  that  the  Germans  were  marching 
on  the  town,  the  teachers  had  gone  elsewhere 
by  train,  taking  the  girls  away  with  them  to 
some  safe  place. 

Maurice  asked  Colonel  Newton  what  he 
thought  about  Marjorie 's  chances,  and  his 
answer  was  an  encouraging  one. 

"I  hear  that  the  nuns  in  many  convent 
schools  have  done  that,  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  teachers  in  your  sister's  school  will 
have  gone  away  by  train  the  moment  they  heard 
of  the  German  advance." 

Colonel  Newton  spoke  with  such  confidence 


PROMOTION  141 

that  Maurice  felt  in  better  spirits,  and  wrote 
home  to  tell  them  what  the  Colonel  thought. 

The  day  came  when  the  doctors  declared  that 
Maurice  was  fit  and  well  again,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  special  orders  he  reported  himself  at 
Headquarters  in  his  new  uniform.  He  was  the 
more  surprised  and  pleased  to  find  that  on  the 
cuffs  of  his  jacket  there  were  two  stars  instead 
of  one. 

" There's  some  mistake,"  he  exclaimed,  look- 
ing at  it  when  he  was  buttoning  his  jacket. 

"It's  no  mistake  at  all,"  said  the  doctor,  who 
was  watching  him,  and  wondering  whether  he 
would  notice  this. 

' '  I  was  to  be  a  sub-lieutenant,  and  this  must 
be  somebody  else's  jacket,  because  it  has  the 
two  stars  of  a  full  lieutenant. ' ' 

"That's  your  rank,  Millard,"  the  doctor  said, 
with  an  amused  look,  after  looking  at  Millard 's 
puzzled  face.  "Captain  Marginson,  who  came 
in  when  the  orderly  brought  in  the  suit  and 
your  whole  uniform,  said  that  the  one  star  was 
for  the  ride  and  saving  Major  Grey's  life,  and 
the  other  for  the  warning  as  to  the  German 
ambush. ' ' 

Maurice's  eyes  grew  dim  with  delight  and 
pride. 

"Please  God,  I'll  prove  my  right  to  all  this 
kindness,"  he  exclaimed,  his  voice  choking  a 
little  as  he  fastened  his  belt. 

"I  am  sure  you  will,  my  boy.  It's  in  you. 
You  wouldn't  have  done  what  you  did  if  duty 
hadn't  counted  with  you  for  a  great  deal." 


142  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Maurice  made  no  answer.  He  gripped  the 
hand  of  the  nurse  who  had  waited  on  him  night 
and  day,  and  thanked  her  again  and  again  for 
all  her  kindness.  Then  a  shake  of  the  hand  of 
the  doctor  before  he  took  his  first  walk  in  the 
open  in  all  the  glory  of  an  officer's  uniform. 

When  he  came  to  Headquarters  he  saw  a 
motor-car  at  the  door,  ready  for  service,  as 
if  waiting  to  carry  someone  to  any  part  of  the 
British  camp  where  his  business  might  carry 
him.  Maurice  looked  at  it,  and  thought  what 
a  capable  machine  it  was;  but  he  moved  on, 
thinking  most  of  what  the  General,  who  had 
sent  for  him,  would  say. 


xn 

RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

THE  Commander  was  busy  giving  orders, 
and  receiving  messages  on  the  telephone, 
when  Maurice  entered  his  room,  so  that 
he  stood  aside  and  watched  until  his  own  turn 
came.  He  had  seen  the  famous  soldier  that 
morning  when  he  was  brought  in,  wounded  and 
helpless,  but  he  was  so  dazed  and  worn  then,  and 
smarting  so  much  with  his  wounds,  that  he  had 
no  thought  of  what  the  General  was  like.  His 
one  anxiety  was  to  give  in  his  report,  and  make 
sure  that  he  was  not  too  late. 

At  last  he  looked  up  and  saw  Maurice. 

"Aren't  you  Lieutenant  Millard!"  he  asked 
kindly,  smiling  a  little  when  he  noticed  that 
Maurice  flushed  at  hearing  himself  so  spoken  to 
for  the  first  time. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Maurice,  giving  a  private's 
salute. 

"An  officer's  salute  now,  Lieutenant,"  said 
the  General,  with  a  little  laugh,  and  giving  it 
himself  for  Maurice's  guidance.  "Come  here, 
my  boy,"  he  said,  in  such  a  kindly  tone,  and  a 
look  which  touched  Maurice  greatly,  making  the 
General's  face  appear  blurred  because  of  the 
mist  in  his  own  eyes. 

148 


AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Maurice  stepped  forward,  and  saw  the 
General's  outstretched  hand. 

"Lieutenant,"  he  said,  as  he  gripped  Maurice 
by  the  hand,  and  held  it  thus  while  he  spoke,  "it 
was  a  service  beyond  all  praise  which  you  rend- 
ered us  by  that  heroic  ride  of  yours.  We  saved 
General  Medway,  who  is  one  of  the  best  we 
have,  and  was  doing  wonders  against  over- 
whelming odds ;  and  that  was  something.  Then 
that  knowledge  of  the  intended  ambush  was 
providential,  and  for  that  I  thank  you,  too.  And 
listen,  Millard,  my  boy,"  the  General  went  on, 
in  a  low  voice,  "I  want  you  to  wear  this  uniform 
as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier ;  never  to  sully  it ; 
to  go  on  and  do  your  noblest  and  your  best  in 
this  tremendous  task  set  for  us  against  the 
enemy.  But  I  am  sure  you  will.  I  can  see  it 
in  your  face." 

Before  Maurice  could  falter  out  his  answer 
the  telephone-bell  rang,  and  the  General,  listen- 
ing to  the  message,  sent  back  his  answer,  prom- 
ising a  fresh  battalion  and  machine  guns  to  a 
hard-pressed  officer  in  the  trenches.  He  was  at 
liberty  again,  and  turned  his  attention  to 
Maurice  once  more. 

"Lieutenant,  they  tell  me  you  speak  French 
freely,"  he  exclaimed,  testing  Maurice  by  put- 
ting this  to  him  in  that  language.  "Is  it  so? 
Can  you  converse  well  in  it?" 

Maurice  answered  instantly  in  French,  and 
the  General  nodded  approvingly. 

' '  Then  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  bit  of  work 
where  your  French  will  come  in  useful.  These 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  145 

papers  must  go  to  General  Joffre  with  all 
dispatch. ' ' 

The  General  lifted  an  envelope  from  the 
table  and  handed  it  to  Maurice.  "I  want  you 
to  take  this.  Avoid  the  enemy  as  much  as 
possible,  but  under  every  consideration,  if  you 
should  chance  to  be  captured,  destroy  them. 
They  must  not  fall  into  German  hands.  Colonel 
Newton  will  see  that  you  set  out  on  your 
journey. ' ' 

With  one  more  salute  Maurice,  with  this  new 
and  important  errand  on  hand,  left  the  General, 
who  was  busy  again  before  Maurice  got  to  the 
door. 

"You  will  go  in  a  motor-car  this  time," 
said  the  Colonel,  who  seemed  to  have  adopted 
Maurice  as  his  special  protege;  "and  it  is  ready 
and  waiting.  Here  it  is,"  he  exclaimed,  as 
they  stepped  into  the  open,  and  into  the  sun- 
shine. 

It  was  the  car  which  Maurice  had  seen  when 
he  entered  the  house. 

The  chauffeur  saluted  the  young  Lieutenant, 
and  when  Maurice  stepped  in  and  took  his  seat, 
the  Colonel  gripped  his  hand  and  bade  him 
God-speed. 

* '  The  driver  knows  his  way  about  all  through 
these  lines,  and  will  take  you  the  best  road  for 
General  Joffre 's  Headquarters.  Don't  forget 
what  was  said  about  those,  Millard,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  the  dispatches  in  Maurice's  hand. 
"Stow  them  away  at  once,  for  fear  of  an  ac- 
cident. A  dozen  things  might  happen — a  swing 


146  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

of  the  car,  or  an  inadvertence  of  some  sort,  and 
they  are  gone ! ' ' 

Colonel  Newton  watched  Maurice  button  them 
up  safely  inside  his  tunic,  then  stood  back  and 
waited  until  the  chauffeur  sent  the  trembling 
car  onward. 

It  proved  to  be  one  of  the  best,  strong  and 
swift,  a  machine  made  for  roads  that  were  war- 
worn, and  before  long  Maurice  was  going  for- 
ward on  his  new  errand  at  a  speed  which 
promised  to  bring  him  to  the  French  Head- 
quarters before  daybreak  the  next  morning. 

The  way  was  safe  for  miles,  for  everywhere 
in  the  early  part  of  the  journey  the  men  they 
met  were  all  in  khaki ;  but  there  was  the  inces- 
sant noise  of  guns,  and  again  and  again  they 
had  to  slacken  speed  because  of  long  lines  of 
troops  that  streamed  along  the  roads. 

In  some  places  there  were  signs  of  German 
havoc,  where  the  enemy  in  their  first  great  rush 
had  not  been  satisfied  with  marching  through 
the  country,  intending  to  get  to  Paris,  but  had 
wantonly  fired  the  houses,  and  even  used  their 
heavy  artillery  on  villages  that  offered  no  re- 
sistance, for  mere  wickedness,  not  to  leave  any- 
thing standing,  and  turning  happy  homes  into 
heaps  of  ruins. 

"The  wickedest  set  of  fighting  men  one  ever 
set  eyes  on,"  said  the  chauffeur,  who  was  an 
old  soldier.  "I  went  through  the  South  Afri- 
can War,  but  there  was  never  anything  like 
that.  And  I  went  through  the  Soudan,  and  the 
Arabs  were  not  as  bad." 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  147 

He  drove  on,  and  Maurice,  in  spite  of  the 
sounds  of  heavy  artillery  in  action,  began  to 
feel  that  his  errand  was  not  going  to  lead  him 
into  any  startling  adventures.  He  would  get 
to  General  Joffre's  Headquarters,  give  in  his 
dispatches,  and  return  with  only  the  experience 
of  a  long  ride  and  the  pleasure,  perhaps,  of 
seeing  the  great  French  Commander. 

The  driver  put  on  the  pace  wherever  the  road 
would  allow,  but  had  to  slow  down  where  it  was 
winding  and  deeply  rutted. 

"There's  some  heavy  fighting  somewhere," 
he  said,  while  the  car  was  climbing  a  stiff  hill, 
but  when  they  reached  the  crest  he  stopped 
suddenly. 

"I  didn't  know  of  that,"  Gibson  exclaimed; 
for  in  the  valley  below,  where  he  expected  to 
find  a  camp  of  French  troops,  he  saw  a  mass 
of  Germans  with  cavalry  and  artillery.  ' '  There 
must  be  twenty  thousand  of  them,"  Gibson 
said;  and  Maurice,  gazing  at  them  while  they 
were  moving  not  only  on  the  roads,  but  across 
the  fields,  trampling  down  the  wheat,  and  every- 
thing that  was  in  the  way,  thought  there  must 
be  twice  as  many.  It  was  an  army  on  the  move, 
and  up  the  hillsides  they  could  see  what  ap- 
peared to  be  the  French  slowly  falling  back. 

The  shells  fired  by  our  Allies  ripped  the  sky. 
Sometimes  they  distinguished  a  high  tearing 
note;  sometimes  great  salvoes  came  from  the 
batteries;  shrapnel  was  pouring  forth,  and 
Maurice  could  see  the  curly  white  clouds  which 
crept  along  the  fields  and  slowly  made  their 


148  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

way  towards  the  Germans,  or  had  dropped  in 
the  midst  of  the  dense  moving  masses  of  men, 
dealing  out  death. 

Before  long  these  two  armies  would  be  at 
closer  death-grips,  the  Germans  determining 
to  force  the  pass,  and  the  French,  with  their 
magnificent  heroism,  making  a  stand  such  as 
has  already  ruined  so  many  of  the  German 
plans. 

"What  shall  we  do,  Gibson?"  Maurice 
asked  after  they  had  watched  the  French  hurri- 
cane of  fire.  The  road  he  meant  to  travel  was 
swarming  with  Germans,  who  were  moving  on, 
while  the  French  were  as  persistently  falling 
back. 

"The  only  course  is  to  turn  to  the  right,  but 
it's  rather  bad  even  there,"  said  Gibson. 

He  was  watching  the  enemy,  while  his  hands 
gripped  the  steering-wheel.  Then  a  smile  came 
to  his  face. 

"The  Germans  think  the  French  are  running 
away,"  he  chuckled;  "but  they'll  soon  find  their 
mistake.  They  are  going  to  make  a  stand  where 
it  suits  them — that  spot  yonder,  sir.  Do  you 
see  it?" 

Gibson  pointed  to  some  low  hills  to  the  right, 
and  Maurice,  who  was  looking  through  his  field- 
glasses  nodded. 

"The  Germans  are  marching  they  don't 
know  where.  The  French  will  let  them  get 
there,  and  when  it  suits  them  will  let  go,  and 
with  their  75 's  and  their  splendid  machine 
guns,  and  one  of  their  heroic  charges,  they  will 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  149 

drive  the  Germans  back.  The  retirement  will 
be  an  eye-opener  to  them,  for  they  will,  most 
likely,  find  themselves  hemmed  in  by  something 
they  know  nothing  of." 

"What  do  you  mean1?"  asked  Maurice,  look- 
ing all  round  the  country  and  seeing  no  signs 
of  any  French  troops  likely  to  cut  up  the 
Germans  in  their  retreat. 

"I  mean  that  in  their  rear  they  will  possibly 
be  hemmed  in  by  the  marshes,  the  most  treach- 
erous spot  I  know  in  this  part  of  France,"  said 
Gibson.  "But  we  must  get  on  before  all  that 
comes,  sir." 

Maurice  nodded  again,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  began  to  think  of  the  safety  of  his 
dispatches.  He  was  really  in  touch  now  with 
the  enemy,  and  there  was  danger. 

"Go  as  hard  as  you  dare,  Gibson,  and  since 
you  know  the  road,  I  must  leave  it  to  you." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur,  and  the 
car  went  down  another  slope,  a  long,  winding 
lane,  deep-rutted  with  farmers'  carts,  but  evi- 
dently untouched  as  yet  by  any  war  wagons 
because  the  lane  was  too  narrow. 

Gibson  went  cautiously,  lest  an  advanced 
guard  of  the  enemy  might  have  reached  the 
neighborhood  already,  and  in  that  case  his 
whole  skill  as  a  driver  would  be  put  to  the 
test. 

"The  road's  clear,  sir,"  he  exclaimed  pres- 
ently, when  he  turned  a  corner  in  the  lane,  and 
saw  that  no  Germans  were  in  view,  save  in  the 
very  far  distance,  where,  from  the  spouts  of 


150  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

rifle  fire  and  the  burst  of  shells,  some  fighting 
was  going  on. 

Gibson  sent  the  car  forward  at  its  topmost 
speed,  hoping  to  get  round  behind  the  hills  into 
the  midst  of  the  French  forces  before  the  Ger- 
mans reached  the  low  land.  The  noise  was 
great  as  the  car  plunged  on,  and  suddenly 
Maurice  and  his  companion  exclaimed  together 
in  surprise.  A  shot  sounded,  sharp  and  clear, 
and  whizzed  past  Gibson's  face,  but  he  did  not 
slacken  speed.  He  sent  the  car  forward  madly, 
although  it  bumped  and  shook,  and  threatened 
to  tumble  to  pieces  with  the  roughness  of  the 
road. 

Another  shot  came.  A  third.  Then  they 
heard  an  imperative  cry  to  halt,  which  left  no 
doubt  as  to  the  nearness  of  the  enemy. 

"That  was  German,"  exclaimed  Gibson. 
"Must  I  stop?"  he  asked,  turning  his  own 
determined  face  to  Maurice. 

"Certainly  not,"  cried  Maurice.  "Drive  on 
as  fast  as  she  will  go.  We're  not  going  to  be 
caught  like  that." 

He  drew  his  revolver  out  while  he  spoke,  and 
Gibson  looking  at  Maurice's  face,  understood 
how  the  tale  of  his  heroism  came  to  be  so  much 
talked  about,  and  why  he  obtained  his  promo- 
tion, although  in  spite  of  his  fine  frame  he  was 
certainly  not  more  than  eighteen. 

* '  He  deserved  all  he  got,  and  more  in  the  way 
of  praise,"  the  old  soldier  thought.  "If  that's 
the  sort  of  stuff  our  young  officers  are  made  of, 
we're  going  to  win  this  war." 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  151 

"I  can't  put  more  speed  on  her,"  he  ex- 
claimed aloud,  and  the  car  fairly  rocked  as  it 
plunged  on  down  the  lane.  With  all  his  skill 
he  was  startled  in  his  own  mind  lest  there 
should  be  a  breakdown  or  a  smash-up  in  one  of 
those  ruts ;  but  he  kept  the  wheels  out  of  them, 
and  watched  keenly  for  any  stones  that  might 
jerk  the  car  and  throw  her  over.  He  left  it  to 
Maurice  to  keep  a  lookout  for  any  further  signs 
of  the  enemy.  His  whole  body  was  tense  while 
he  was  doing  this,  and  Maurice,  with  his  re- 
volver in  hand  and  his  eyes  searching  for  any 
indications  of  the  nearness  of  the  enemy,  urged 
him  to  take  the  risks  and  drive  on.  Even  thus 
he  had  to  grip  the  side  of  the  car  as  it  rocked. 

Shots  came.  He  could  hear  them  fly  by.  One 
hit  a  wheel,  but  not  the  tire.  Another  carried 
Gibson's  cap  away,  while  a  third  struck  the 
body  of  the  chassis.  Then  came  another  call 
to  halt. 

"We  shall  have  to  take  the  forest,  sir,"  cried 
Gibson,  when  the  bottom  of  the  lane  was 
reached. 

"Yes,  I  see!"  exclaimed  Maurice,  whose 
blood  was  up.  What  the  old  Saxons  and 
Vikings  used  to  call  the  Berserker  spirit  was  in 
him  and  was  all  on  fire — the  spirit  that  loved 
a  fight,  and  did  not  know  of  anything  like  fear 
in  the  midst  of  battle.  "The  plain  is  full  of 
Germans!"  he  went  on.  "And  see!  They're 
facing  the  French  there!  I  can  see  the  blue- 
gray  uniforms  and  the  red  trousers  of  Joffre's 
men;  but  they're  holding  the  enemy!" 


152  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

He  almost  clapped  his  hands  when  he  saw 
a  German  battalion,  which  had  got  part  of  the 
way  up  the  slope,  waver  and  turn,  flinging  away 
their  arms  when  the  gallant  Frenchmen  charged 
down  the  hill  with  their  bayonets. 

When  Maurice  and  Gibson  drove  into  the 
forest  they  had  the  feeling  that  they  were  in 
more  danger  than  before.  Who  could  tell 
what  they  might  find  in  the  path  which  wound 
among  the  trees?  For  the  moment,  when  the 
memory  of  it  came  to  him,  Maurice  shuddered. 
It  reminded  him  of  that  ride  on  his  motor-cycle, 
and  this  might  well  be  as  dangerous  a  place  as 
that.  Still,  his  task  had  been  set  for  him,  and 
he  would  not  shirk  it  one  jot. 

"I  must  slow  down  a  bit,  or  we  shall  come 
to  grief  with  some  of  the  spreading  roots  of 
the  trees,"  said  Gibson. 

Again  and  again  they  had  to  bend  low  to 
avoid  the  low-hanging  branches,  but  they 
breathed  with  relief  when  they  found  that  they 
were  coming  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  without 
having  seen  or  heard  any  more  of  the  Ger- 
mans. 

" Which  way  will  you  go  now,  Gibson?" 
Maurice  asked,  putting  back  his  revolver,  think- 
ing that  now  they  had  got  out  of  reach  of  the 
enemy,  who  were  evidently  concentrating  their 
attention  on  the  hills  which  the  French  were 
holding  so  finely,  barring  the  enemy's  progress 
to  the  south. 

Gibson  was  going  to  answer,  but  he  swerved 
the  car  so  suddenly  that  Maurice  was  thrown 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  153 

heavily  in  his  seat  against  the  arm  of  the 
driver. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Gibson,"  Maurice  cried, 
quickly  righting  himself,  but  he  caught  sight 
of  the  chauffeur's  face.  "What's  wrong?"  he 
asked. 

1  'Look  to  your  left,  sir." 

Maurice  looked,  and  a  low  whistle  escaped 
him. 

"Germans  everywhere,"  he  exclaimed.  He 
saw  a  sentry  a  hundred  yards  away  to  the  left, 
and  behind  him  a  patrol,  moving  slowly.  Some- 
where, but  from  which  direction  neither  he  nor 
Gibson  knew,  was  the  faint  sound  of  horsemen, 
the  jingle  of  steel  on  the  harness,  and  in  the  far 
distance,  on  the  right,  they  saw  the  German 
cavalry  coming  on — a  great  body  of  them — but 
moving  slowly. 

"We  shall  have  to  run  the  gauntlet  now," 
cried  Maurice.  "  'Tis  death  or  prison  for  us 
both  to  go  back.  We  can't  ride  tamely  up  to 
that  sentinel  and  the  patrol  behind  him;  and 
there  are  all  those  cavalrymen!  Let  her  go, 
Gibson!" 

On  went  the  car,  but  although  Maurice  felt  a 
thrill  when  he  saw  the  great  body  of  horse,  he 
marveled  that  they  did  not  give  chase,  and  he 
said  so  to  Gibson. 

"They  think  we're  Germans,"  the  soldier 
answered.  "They  don't  expect  anybody  like 
Englishmen  on  what  they  have  the  audacity 
to  call  German  soil." 

"And  French  at  that,"  exclaimed  Maurice, 


154  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

who  was  looking  at  the  enemy  beneath  his  hand. 
" Don't  slow  down,  Gibson.  I  believe  they  are 
coming  after  all.  I  should  think  there  must  be 
twenty  just  started  out  of  the  ranks,  and  they're 
coming  at  a  gallop,  but  they  are  straggling,  and 
I  may  pick  off  a  few  if  they  come  too  near.  I'll 
empty  this  into  them."  Maurice  was  examin- 
ing his  revolver  while  he  spoke. 

"The  car  will  beat  'em,"  said  Gibson.  "I 
can  put  on  an  extra  ten  miles  an  hour  at  a 
pinch,  and  I  guess  the  best  horse  in  the  German 
army  won't  last  out  if  they  come  for  us." 

"I'm  sure  of  it!"  cried  Maurice  exultantly, 
when  the  car  put  on  that  extra  spurt,  and  they 
were  flying  along.  "We're  leaving  them  be- 
hind already." 

"Hold  tight,  sir,"  said  Gibson  presently,  by 
way  of  warning.  "I'm  going  to  take  this  lane. 
It's  a  short  cut,  and  if  we  can  get  to  those  hills 
yonder,  we  ought  to  be  fairly  near  to  General 
Joffre's  Headquarters.  Are  they  coming  on?" 

"No,"  Maurice  answered,  swinging  in  his 
seat,  and  gripping  the  side  of  the  car  tightly 
to  keep  himself  from  being  pitched  out.  The 
wonder  was  that  the  chassis  did  not  break  up 
with  the  terrific  shaking  and  strain.  "I  say, 
Gibson,  you  nearly  sent  me  flying  out  that 
time,"  he  cried,  when  he  had  recovered  him- 
self, and  had  tumbled  into  the  corner  of  his 
seat. 

"Couldn't  help  it,  sir.  If  those  fellows  were 
in  sight " 

"They  weren't.     I  haven't  seen  a  German 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  155 

for  the  last  five  minutes.  They  must  have  given 
us  up  as  a  bad  job." 

"I  hope  they  have,"  said  Gibson,  who  was 
bending  forward  over  his  steering-wheel  and 
peering  straight  ahead. 

It  was  growing  dark  now,  and  they  found 
themselves  in  a  straight  descending  lane,  with 
high  hedges  on  either  side. 

"Where  do  you  think  this  lane  leads, 
Gibson !" 

"To  those  hills  in  front." 

"It  looks  to  me,"  said  Maurice,  peering  for- 
ward, "as  though  we  were  coming  to  fields,  and 
nothing  else.  I  can't  see  any  road." 

"I  can,  sir.  There's  one  lying  away  to  the 
left,  in  the  direction  I  want  to  take,  and  I 
should  say  that  this  lane  leads  into  it." 

"All  right  then,  on  you  go,"  said  Maurice, 
slipping  his  revolver  back  to  its  place,  since 
there  seemed  to  be  no  present  need  for  it. 
"Gibson,  what  would  a  policeman  say  if  he 
saw  us  now,  and  stopped  us  for  exceeding  the 
limit?"  Maurice  asked,  and  the  two  laughed 
loudly. 

"He'd  take  our  number,  sir,  and  report  us  to 
the  Kaiser,"  said  Gibson,  turning  a  slight  bend 
and  sounding  his  horn.  He  was  a  bit  jubilant 
at  the  thought  of  having  left  the  Germans  be- 
hind, and  had  tumbled  back  into  ordinary  road 
ways  again. 

The  car  went  on.  In  the  growing  darkness 
they  seemed  to  be  on  the  road,  and  their  confi- 
dence was  unshaken,  because  already  in  the  east 


156  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

the  moon  was  rising  behind  the  trees,  faint  as 
yet,  but  ready  to  be  helpful  more  and  more  as 
the  night  came  on.  But  after  a  while  the 
motor-car  began  to  go  heavily.  Her  full 
speed  was  on,  but  she  was  not  covering  the 
ground  as  swiftly  as  before. 

"Anything gone  wrong,  do  you  think?"  asked 
Maurice  anxiously.  "Are  we  going  to  have 
a  breakdown?  Listen!  We  are  splashing 
through  water." 

It  had  grown  dark  so  quickly  that  it  was 
impossible  to  see  what  was  around  them.  The 
road  seemed  all  right,  yet  the  car  was  laboring, 
as  if  plowing  along  on  soft  ground. 

"Suppose  you  pull  up,  Gibson,"  said 
Maurice.  "I'll  jump  out  and  look  round. 
It's  just  possible  we're  off  the  road,  or  on  the 
edge  of  a  pond." 

Gibson  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill,  and 
Maurice  jumped  off,  but  he  called  out  in 
surprise : 

"I'm  standing  in  water!" 

Gibson  leaned  aside  and  looked  at  Maurice  in 
quick  alarm. 

"You  don't  say  so,  sir!" 

"I  do.  Listen  to  this;"  and  Gibson  heard 
the  swish  of  water  as  Maurice  kicked  one  of  his 
feet  to  and  fro.  "What's  more,  I  think  I'm 
sinking.  Yes,  I  am!"  he  exclaimed,  almost  in 
the  same  breath.  "We  are  in  a  bog,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort. ' ' 

Just  then  the  moon,  which  for  a  time  had 
been  hiding  herself  behind  some  clouds,  lit  up 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  157 

the  country — the  distant  hills,  and  the  forest 
they  had  run  through  at  such  peril,  and  the 
meadows;  but  what  attracted  the  attention  of 
Maurice  and  his  companion  was  the  glitter  of 
the  moonlight  in  pools  of  water  everywhere 
about  them.  Bits  of  grass,  or  rushes,  or  reeds 
showed  here  and  there,  but  on  and  on,  to  left 
and  right,  and  far  behind,  were  these  pools 
which  spelled  out  danger. 

"We're  in  the  marshes,"  exclaimed  Gibson, 
and  this  was  the  first  sign  of  terror  Maurice  had 
noticed  in  the  soldier.  The  shots  from  the 
enemy,  and  the  danger  which  had  dogged  them 
for  so  many  miles,  had  put  him  on  his  mettle, 
and  he  seemed  to  glory  in  disappointing  the 
Germans  when  they  failed  to  hit  him  or  the 
gallant  young  officer  at  his  side.  But  this  bog ! 
It  was  fearful. 

"Step  away  a  bit  to  your  left,"  said  Gibson. 
"I  think  you  will  be  on  solid  ground  there." 

Maurice  did  as  the  chauffeur  suggested. 

"That's  right,"  he  exclaimed.  "And  here's 
a  road  which,  somehow,  we  missed  by  a  few  feet 
in  the  darkness.  It  came  on  so  sudden  that  I 
don't  wonder  at  it." 

"Stand  where  you  are,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Gibson.  "I'll  try  to  get  the  car  back  on  the 
road,"  he  added,  turning  in  his  seat  to  look 
behind.  "Ten  yards  will  do  it." 

He  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  car,  while 
Maurice  stood  on  the  hard  road  and  watched 
while  Gibson  tried  to  back  out ;  but  although  she 
made  a  tremendous  noise  in  her  frantic  efforts, 


158  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

she  did  not  budge.  All  that  she  did  was  to  sink 
deeper  and  deeper,  and  while  Maurice  looked 
on,  he  saw  that  she  was  doomed.  The  wheels 
went  down  and  down  into  the  ooze  and  mire, 
which  in  time  covered  the  footboard.  The 
engine  ceased  to  work  as  the  water  began  to 
wash  about  Gibson's  feet  on  the  floor  of  the  car. 

"It's  all  up  with  her,  Gibson,"  cried  Maurice, 
who  found  it  impossible  to  lend  a  helping  hand. 
"You  must  come  away  and  leave  her  to  her 
fate.  Come,  while  you  have  the  chance,  or  you 
will  go  down  with  her ! ' ' 

Gibson  left  the  wheel,  and  stepping  to  the  side 
nearest  to  Maurice,  he  jumped;  but  at  the 
moment  the  car  shifted,  and  his  leap  was 
broken.  Instead  of  landing  on  the  solid  bit  of 
ground  where  Maurice  stood,  he  fell  midway 
in  the  slush  of  the  marsh.  The  fall  brought  the 
ooze  and  water  to  his  waist,  and  he  could  find 
nothing  solid  for  his  feet  to  rest  on. 

"I'm  going  down,"  he  cried,  digging  his 
fingers  into  what  looked  like  a  clump  of  solid 
rank  grass ;  but  it  gave  way  at  his  clutch. 

Maurice  wondered  what  he  could  do.  Had 
it  been  water,  where  his  limbs  would  be  free  to 
move,  he  would  have  plunged  in  for  the  sinking 
soldier ;  but  this  was  danger  for  both,  where  one 
could  not  save  the  other,  and  where  the  slough 
sucked  its  victims  down. 

He  flung  himself  full  length  on  the  ground, 
reaching  over  as  far  as  he  dared. 

"Catch  hold  of  my  hand,  Gibson,"  he  cried, 
and  the  sinking  man  just  managed  to  touch  the 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  159 

stretched-out  fingers.  Even  then  they  both  saw 
how  he  was  going  down,  and  the  distance  be- 
tween the  hands  increased.  However  much, 
and  dangerously,  Maurice  reached  out,  Gibson 
was  getting  farther  away. 

Maurice's  ready  resourcefulness  served  him 
in  this  terrible  extremity.  He  sat  back  on  his 
heels  swiftly,  and  unfastened  his  belt ;  then  fall- 
ing prone  on  the  ground  again,  he  threw  out  the 
end  for  Gibson  to  grip. 

"Clutch  at  that,"  he  cried,  and  Gibson,  who 
by  this  time  had  the  ooze  up  to  his  arm-pits, 
clutched  at  it  frantically.  It  was  his  last 
chance,  and  when  he  felt  his  fingers  close  over 
the  buckle  he  knew  that  the  struggle  for  life 
would  be  in  his  favor  if  the  boy  Lieutenant  at 
the  other  end  of  the  belt  had  strength  to  pull 
him  out. 

"Grip  tight,  Gibson.  Both  hands!  Don't 
let  go.  Try,  if  you  can,  to  set  your  feet  on 
something.  That's  right." 

The  chauffeur's  hands  gripped  the  belt,  and 
Maurice  began  to  draw  him  in. 

It  was  slow  and  dangerous  work.  Maurice, 
lying  full  length,  hauled  in  with  all  his  strength. 
He  felt  a  weakness  in  the  arm  that  had  been 
wounded,  but  he  would  not  suffer  himself  to 
think  of  that.  The  thing  was  to  save  this  man 
who  was  sinking  to  death,  and  would  be  gone 
beyond  all  recovery  if  he  failed  to  pull  him  out 
of  the  bog.  He  dug  his  own  feet  into  the  road, 
but  although  it  was  sloppy,  it  was  hard,  and  he 
had  a  fear  lest,  if  he  did  not  use  great  care,  the 


160  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

chauffeur's  weight  would  pull  him  in  also. 
Even  then  he  was  determined  not  to  let  the  sol- 
dier slip  from  his  grip. 

"Hold  tight,"  he  cried,  when  he  determined 
to  change  his  position;  and  with  infinite  effort 
he  contrived  to  swing  his  body  round,  so  that 
he  might  dig  in  his  heels  and  have  a  better 
chance. 

* '  You  are  coming,  "he  exclaimed.  * '  Hold 
tight!" 

He  tried  all  those  tricks  they  used  to  try 
when  he  was  at  school  at  Ellingham  in  the  tug- 
of-war,  and  at  last  Gibson's  body  rested  on 
solid  ground. 

"Dig  your  fingers  in,  Gibson,"  Maurice 
cried ;  but  half  afraid  for  him  to  loosen  his  hold 
on  the  belt,  lest  he  should  slip  back  again. 

It  was  only  a  momentary  slackening  before 
Maurice  was  gripping  him  by  the  hands,  and 
drawing  him  out  slowly;  and  not  until  the 
man's  knees  were  over  the  edge  did  he  allow 
him  rest;  while,  for  himself,  he  sank  down  in 
an  exhausted  state,  every  limb  seeming  to 
throb,  and,  unknown  to  Gibson,  the  old  wound 
apparently  broken  open  again. 

The  moon  came  away  more  clearly  from  be- 
hind the  clouds,  and  lit  up  everything  like  day. 
Then  it  showed  them  something  more  than  the 
endless  mud  pools  of  the  marshes.  They  saw 
each  other,  and  laughed  uproariously  in  spite 
of  the  danger  they  incurred  of  being  seen  or 
heard  by  any  Germans  who  chanced  to  be  near. 

They  had  just  come  out  of  the  jaws  of  death 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  161 

—from  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy  and  the  rain 
of  shots,  and  from  the  horrors  of  the  bog;  yet 
they  looked  so  different  now  to  what  they  did 
when  they  set  out  from  Headquarters,  spick 
and  span. 

Suddenly  the  unexpected  happened.  A  body 
of  horsemen  came  round  the  corner  of  the  wind- 
ing road.  Drawing  back  into  a  hedge,  and  slid- 
ing down  into  the  ditch,  where  the  water  came 
above  their  boots,  they  waited,  wondering 
whose  the  horsemen  were — our  Allies,  or 
Germans  ? 

"They  are  Frenchmen,"  Gibson  exclaimed, 
after  watching  them  keenly. 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Certain." 

Maurice  took  him  at  his  word,  for  he  had 
already  suspected  this  from  what  he  had  seen. 
He  sprang  into  the  road,  and  walking  swiftly, 
with  his  hands  uplifted,  he  drew  up  before  the 
foremost  horseman. 

"I  want  your  Commander,"  he  cried  in 
French. 

"He  is  here,"  exclaimed  a  horseman  who 
advanced  at  a  canter,  for  he  had  seen  two  sol- 
diers spring  out  of  the  hedge.  "What  is  your 
business!"  he  asked,  pulling  up  his  charger. 

"I  am  carrying  an  important  dispatch  for 
General  Joffre,  but  in  trying  to  avoid  the  Ger- 
mans, I  lost  my  motor-car  in  a  bog,  and  we 
have  had  to  come  the  rest  of  the  way  on  foot. ' ' 

"Ha!  May  I  see  the  package,  monsieur?" 
asked  the  rider. 


162  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"  'Tis  here,  monsieur,"  was  Maurice's 
answer,  and  he  drew  the  package  from  its 
hiding-place,  and  held  it  so  that  the  super- 
scription could  be  read.  "And  here  is  my 
pass." 

"Pass  on,  monsieur.  You  will  find  the  Gen- 
eral half  a  mile  along  the  road.  I  will  send 
someone  with  you. ' ' 

Maurice  went  forward,  carrying  the  dis- 
patch in  his  hand.  As  he  looked  at  it,  he  was 
half  ashamed  to  offer  it  to  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  the  great  French  army,  it  looked  so 
much  the  worse  for  wear,  and  mud-splashed. 
In  some  inexplicable  way  the  mud  had  got  in- 
side his  tunic  and  down  his  neck — in  at  every 
conceivable  opening,  so  that  it  was  streaked  and 
splotched  all  over,  as  well  as  crumpled  because 
of  the  many  postures  he  had  put  himself  into 
to  escape  notice  from  the  enemy  on  the  way. 

"Father  Joffre,"  as  the  French  soldiers 
called  him  affectionately,  saw  the  whimsical 
look  on  Maurice's  face,  and  guessed  what  was 
in  his  mind.  He  met  Maurice 's  hesitation  with 
a  smile. 

* '  It  looks  like  yourself,  monsieur,  as  If  it  had 
been  in  the  wars;  but  it  is  the  inside  that 
counts."  With  that  he  took  the  package  and 
broke  away  the  covering. 

As  he  read  the  contents,  forgetful  of  every- 
one around,  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro,  read- 
ing the  dispatch,  the  officers  standing  by,  and 
even  a  mud-splashed  rider  halting,  waiting 
until  the  General  looked  up,  saw  that  Joffre 's 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET  163 

face  brightened.  He  said  no  word  to  anyone 
while  he  leisurely  folded  up  the  sheets  of  paper 
when  he  had  read  them  all,  and  replaced  them 
in  the  envelope,  and  thrust  the  package  into  his 
bosom. 

' '  Monsieur,  walk  at  my  side,  and  tell  me  what 
you  saw  while  on  the  road, ' '  he  exclaimed,  com- 
ing to  Maurice;  and  Maurice  knowing  how 
precious  the  General's  time  was,  and  what 
claims  there  were  on  his  attention,  told  the 
story  quickly  of  his  ride  and  the  view  he  had 
of  the  battle,  the  loss  of  his  car,  as  well  as  the 
presence  of  Germans  near  at  hand. 

There  was  a  slight  frown  on  Joffre's  face, 
but  his  quick  and  decisive  order  came  the  mo- 
ment Maurice  had  ended,  for  he  turned  to  the 
officer  who,  at  his  desire,  had  walked  to  and  fro 
with  him. 

"General  Moulin,  you  hear  what  this  young 
officer  says  as  to  the  Germans  being  so  near!" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Then  take  a  sufficient  force  and  sweep  the 
district.  The  enemy  must  not  be  suffered  to 
remain.  By  the  time  Lieutenant  Millard  is 
ready  to  return  with  my  answer  the  country 
must  be  clear." 

He  turned  away.  He  had  given  his  order. 
He  knew  General  Moulin 's  fine  capability ;  knew 
that  he  would  do  his  work  well,  and  left  him  to 
do  it  in  his  own  way.  Then  he  spoke  to 
Maurice. 

"Lieutenant  Millard,  you  and  your  orderly 
must  go  into  the  house,  have  food  and  a  bath. 


164  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Sergeant,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  one  near  s& 
hand,  "see  that  these  messieurs  are  attended 
to,  and  put  them  into  more  comfortable  trim. 
And  have  a  motor-car  ready  for  their  return." 

General  Joffre  smiled  as  he  looked  again  at 
these  mud-stained  messengers. 

"  'Tis  good,  clean  French  mud,  monsieur," 
he  added,  and  then  turned  to  know  what  a  rider 
on  a  foam-covered  horse  had  brought  in  thej 
way  of  news. 


xm 

THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL 

WHEN  Maurice  handed  in  the  message 
from  General  Joffre,  he  thought  of 
proceeding  to  the  trenches  to  join  his 
new  regiment,  but  found  the  men  taking  billet 
rest,  expecting,  however,  to  be  sent  away  to  do 
some  hard  fighting  at  any  hour. 

The  order  came  the  next  day,  when  they  were 
dispatched  in  haste  to  reinforce  the  troops  at  a 
point  where  they  were  hard  pressed  by  the 
enemy.  Sounds  of  heavy  artillery  fire  were 
heard  long  before  they  came  to  the  village  amid 
two  forests,  and  Maurice  and  his  men  found 
themselves  by  an  old  mill  whose  wheel  was  still 
standing,  since  those  who  lived  in  it  had  fled  on 
the  approach  of  the  enemy. 

A  number  of  his  men  were  sent  to  the  mill 
itself,  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  in  case  the 
Germans  sought  to  cross  the  stream.  In  a 
very  little  while  the  machine  guns  were  placed 
at  every  possible  spot  for  offering  a  strong 
front  to  the  enemy,  on  the  gallery  of  wood,  and 
at  the  stone  gateway  of  the  yard,  which  was 
surrounded  by  sheds  and  stables  and  store- 
houses. 

It  was  a  dangerous  spot  for  many  reasons, 
for  if  the  Germans  were  bold  enough  to  use  the 

165 


166  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

boats  moored  to  the  bank  on  the  other  side  of 
the  broad  stream,  and  came  sufficiently  near  to 
pour  in  some  of  their  liquid  fire,  the  old  mill, 
whose  timbers  cracked  as  the  soldiers  moved 
round  the  wooden  gallery,  or  climbed  to  the 
upper  floors,  would  soon  be  in  a  blaze,  and  no 
amount  of  valor  would  permit  the  men  to  hold 
the  place. 

"Those  boats  are  a  menace,  sir,"  said  one  of 
the  sergeants,  an  old  soldier  who  had  seen 
plenty  of  fighting  before  Maurice  was  born. 
"If  the  Germans  get  at  them,  and  come  over 
here,  we  can't  hold  the  mill." 

"What  can  we  do  with  them?"  Maurice 
asked. 

1 '  Send  some  men  in  those  two  boats  and  bring 
the  whole  lot  over  here,  sir. ' ' 

Maurice  jumped  at  the  idea. 

"I'll  go  over  myself,"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  wouldn't  sir,  if  I  were  you.  You  ought 
to  be  here  with  the  men,  and  look  out  for  emer- 
gencies," was  the  old  soldier's  advice.  "I  have 
an  idea,  from  what  I  saw  in  the  upper  floor  of 
the  mill  just  now,  that  there's  a  big  company 
of  Germans  down  by  the  village,  making  for 
this  very  spot.  Let  me  go,  sir,  and  you  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  while  I  am  gone." 

"Very  well,"  said  Maurice,  looking  longingly 
across  the  stream,  wishing  he  might  go  himself, 
but  realizing  that  the  kindly  advice  of  the  sea- 
soned sergeant  was  best.  "Get  away  as  quick 
as  you  can,  Gibbons.  If  they  were  that  near, 
they'll  soon  be  here." 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL          167 

The  sergeant  went  off  the  gallery  at  a  run, 
calling  to  a  man  here  and  there  as  he  ran,  and 
Maurice  saw  him  hurrying  down  the  broken 
stairway  to  the  landing-stage,  where  a  couple 
of  crazy  boats  were  fastened.  He  could  see 
their  movements  through  the  cracks  and  holes 
of  the  floor  on  which  he  was  standing.  To 
watch  more  clearly  what  was  going  on,  having 
told  his  men  to  be  alert  for  anything  that  might 
chance,  he  ran  up  the  ladder  to  the  upper  floor 
of  the  mill,  and  then  he  saw  what  thrilled  him. 

What  seemed  to  be  a  body  of  five  hundred 
Germans  were  advancing  straight  on  the  mill, 
wearing  their  packs  and  full  field-kit,  and  mak- 
ing for  the  boats.  He  was  relieved  to  find  that 
they  had  no  heavy  guns,  for  had  they  brought 
them,  the  mill  would  be  a  mass  of  broken 
timber  in  ten  minutes,  and  not  one  of  the  de- 
fenders would  be  left  alive.  But  as  things 
stood,  he  could  put  up  a  big  fight  and  hold  the 
mill. 

He  knew  that  the  Lieutenant-Colonel  of  the 
battalion  could  not  see  what  was  passing  here 
because  of  the  dense  forest  on  either  side,  in 
which  his  soldiers  were  distributed,  and 
Maurice  sent  one  of  his  corporals  to  suggest 
that  some  heavy  cannon  might  sweep  the  space 
on  which  this  large  force  of  Germans  was  mov- 
ing. But  meanwhile  he  and  his  men  would  hold 
the  mill. 

Turning  his  attention  now  to  Gibbons  and 
his  party  in  the  rotten  boats,  he  saw  some  of 
the  men  pulling  hard  with  the  broken  oars 


168  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

across  the  stream,  and  before  long  they  were 
close  .to  the  bank  where  the  other  boats  were 
fastened.  Suddenly,  out  of  the  midst  of  the 
rushes  he  saw  a  German  helmet  spring  into 
sight;  another;  then  many;  and  forty  or  fifty 
Germans  came  on  at  a  rush  towards  the  spot 
where  Gibbons  was  closing  up  with  the  boats. 
Less  than  fifty  yards  of  bank  had  to  be  tra- 
versed by  the  Germans,  and  then  the  men  at 
the  boats  would  be  engaged  in  a  hand-to-hand 
fight. 

"Pick  off  those  in  the  front  line  if  you  can," 
cried  Maurice,  and  catching  up  a  rifle  that  was 
standing  by  the  wooden  wall,  he  leveled  it,  aim- 
ing for  the  front  man,  who  was  five  or  six  yards 
in  advance  of  the  others.  His  shot  went  uner- 
ringly, just  as  it  did  when  he  was  firing  with  his 
School  Eight  at  Bisley,  and  the  foremost  man 
whirled  round,  his  gun  flew  out  of  his  hand, 
and  Maurice  saw  him  fall  backward  in  the 
midst  of  some  rushes. 

"Look  to  that  second  man,"  he  exclaimed  to 
the  soldiers  about  him.  "That  will  give  Gib- 
bons time  to  cut  some  of  the  boats  away." 

While  he  spoke  a  soldier  at  his  side  fired;  a 
little  puff  of  smoke  floated  into  Maurice's  face, 
but  leaning  forward,  he  saw  that  the  second 
German  was  hit,  and  sprawling  on  the  ground, 
face  downwards. 

"Give  me  your  gun,  and  load  that  one," 
cried  Maurice  to  a  soldier  who  was  as  brave  as 
any  among  them,  but  no  great  shot,  and  the  man 
in  an  instant  put  his  weapon  in  Maurice 's  hand. 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL          169 

A  report  rang  out,  and  the  third  soldier  fell. 
But  the  mass  was  coming  on  by  this  time — a 
score  or  two  of  them — and  as  yet  Gibbons  had 
barely  touched  the  boats. 

''Try  the  machine  guns!"  Maurice  shouted; 
"but  don't  hit  our  men.  Blaze  away  into  that 
crowd  and  stop  them!" 

The  rattle  of  the  machine  guns  started  before 
he  had  ended,  and  the  shots  reached  the  Ger- 
mans, who  staggered  before  the  unexpected  fire. 
Some  threw  up  their  hands  and  fell,  but  even 
then,  determined  to  get  to  the  boats,  others 
dropped  on  their  hands  and  knees,  and  moved 
forward  that  way.  They  could  be  seen  at  times, 
going  on,  bending  low  or  crawling,  to  hide  be- 
hind the  rushes ;  but  with  the  machine  guns  and 
the  rifle  fire  they  stood  little  chance.  Yet,  when 
there  were  not  half  a  dozen  yards  between  them 
and  the  boats,  a  score  of  Germans  came  for-, 
ward  with  a  rush.  Even  these  would  have  been 
enough  to  overwhelm  Gibbons  and  his  dozen 
men,  with  their  hands  occupied  with  the  boats. 
It  had  been  an  affair  of  minutes,  but  now  the 
little  cutting-out  party  could  not  be  supported 
lest,  in  the  melee,  friend  and  foe  might  be  shot 
down  by  the  fire  from  the  mill.  All  that  could 
be  done  now  was  to  stand  and  watch,  and  wait 
for  their  chance. 

"Is  there  a  Bisley  man  among  you?" 
Maurice  shouted,  when  he  saw  that  Gibbons' 
men  seemed  doomed,  exposed  now  to  the  fire 
from  a  score,  from  a  hundred,  perhaps,  in  a 
few  minutes;  for  other  Germans  were  advanc- 


170  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

ing.  It  was  possible  with  some  good  shots  to 
hold  them  back  while  Gibbons  got  away. 

"I'm  one,  sir,"  cried  a  private,  hurrying  for- 
ward. "Another,  sir,"  came  a  voice,  and  the 
soldier,  halting  suddenly,  while  Maurice  was 
leveling  his  own  gun,  put  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  took  swift  aim,  and  fired.  It  caught 
a  German  in  the  act  of  leaping  off  the  bank  into 
the  boat  to  which  Gibbons  had  jumped,  with  his 
knife  drawn  to  cut  the  rope.  The  man  fell  close 
by  the  sergeant  in  a  heap.  Maurice  saw  it,  but 
there  was  another  coming,  and  he  turned  to  him 
instead,  and  as  the  rifle  snapped  and  the  smoke 
came  in  a  little  puff,  the  German  shot  down  the 
bank,  and  his  feet  struck  hard  against  the  bows 
of  the  boat  next  to  Gibbons',  just  as  a  young 
soldier  had  severed  its  rope,  so  that  it  bounced 
out  into  the  stream. 

Gibbons  had  every  boat  free  by  this  time,  and 
then,  in  spite  of  the  hurried  and  chance  firing 
from  the  Germans,  each  craft  was  well  in  hand, 
and  each,  with  a  man  in  it  working  at  the  oars, 
was  crossing  to  the  mill. 

The  Germans  blazed  away  at  them,  but  only 
three  men  were  hit,  and  each  of  these,  with  one 
exception,  still  pulled.  The  third  man  lay  still 
across  his  oars,  and  the  boat  was  drifting. 
Whether  alive  or  dead  no  one  could  tell,  but 
Gibbons,  who  was  nearest,  went  after  him, 
caught  at  the  rowlocks,  slipped  his  hand  rapidly 
along  the  gunwale,  got  hold  of  the  painter,  tied 
it,  in  spite  of  the  shots  that  were  flying  around 
him,  to  his  own  rowlocks,  and  pulled  both  boats 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL         171 

to  the  steps  where  already  all  the  other  boats 
had  been  safely  tied. 

He  was  greeted  like  his  comrades  with  rous- 
ing cheers;  but  Maurice  was  thinking  of  the 
Germans  who  were  standing  on  the  other  bank, 
exasperated  at  their  failure. 

"We  must  clear  those  fellows  out,"  cried 
Maurice,  not  waiting  for  Gibbons  and  his 
men  to  come  up  the  rickety  steps.  "Keep 
up  a  continuous  fire!  Make  it  warm  for 
them!" 

But  now  the  Germans  had  come  up  by  hun- 
dreds, and  sent  a  hot  fire  across  the  water  to  the 
mill.  A  concentrated  fire  followed,  again  and 
again  repeated,  bringing  away  great  pieces  of 
the  boarding  of  the  rotten  old  building,  and 
smashing  in  two  or  three  of  the  shutters. 
Maurice  went  through  the  mill  to  see  how  his 
men  were  faring,  and  found  that  several  of 
them  had  been  seriously  wounded.  He  did 
what  he  could  for  them  in  the  way  of  First 
Aid,  but  there  were  demands  on  him  every- 
where, and  he  had  reluctantly  to  leave  the  poor 
fellows  to  their  chance.  Then  he  went  to  the 
gallery  again. 

Gibbons  came  to  him  when  the  boats  had  been 
made  secure. 

"That  was  splendidly  done,  sergeant," 
Maurice  cried,  lowering  his  rifle,  after  having 
just  picked  off  the  officer  in  command.  He  had 
paused  to  see  the  fellow  fall  headlong  off  the 
bank  into  the  stream.  "But  I'm  afraid  we 
shan't  be  able  to  hold  on  to  the  mill.  We  are 


172  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

within  too  easy  a  range  for  the  enemy.  What 
do  you  think?" 

"I  should  advise  you  to  draw  the  men  and 
machine  guns  away,  sir,  and  get  to  the  mill 
yard,  where  we  shall  have  some  shelter." 

Gibbons  had  barely  spoken  when  there  came 
a  fierce  volley  of  musketry,  and  the  side  of  the 
mill  nearest  to  the  stream  was  riddled;  but 
every  shot  had  gone  too  high. 

"Get  out  of  this,  sharp!"  Maurice  cried. 
4  *  Take  those  guns  into  the  yard." 

While  this  heavier  task  was  being  accom- 
plished, Maurice  and  the  other  men  rushed 
down  to  the  mill  yard,  sheltering  behind  every 
bit  of  cover  that  offered,  but  having  a  full  view 
of  the  baffled  enemy  on  the  farther  bank  of  the 
stream.  Ten  minutes  later  the  yard  had  be- 
come a  fortress  to  which  the  Germans  sent  an 
almost  harmless  fire. 

"It's  all  right  now,  Gibbons,  unless  they 
bring  up  their  heavy  guns,"  said  Maurice. 
"Did  you  see  any  signs  of  them?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  did,  sir,"  the  old  soldier 
answered,  looking  with  admiration  on  this 
plucky  boy  lieutenant  who  was  showing  such 
cool  courage,  and  so  much  resourcefulness. 
"Suppose  we  keep  blazing  away  at  them? 
We've  any  amount  of  ammunition,  and  they 
can't  get  at  us,  since  we've  got  the  boats." 

Maurice  turned  to  his  men  in  a  lull  that 
followed. 

"We  won't  waste  our  ammunition,"  he  said. 
"If  any  of  you  see  something  to  hit,  fire  away 


173 

for  all  you  are  worth,'*  lie  went  on;  and  the 
men — some  of  them  had  been  turned  into  sea- 
soned soldiers  in  South  Africa — looked  at  their 
boyish  lieutenant  with  pride,  and  could  not 
repress  a  cheer. 

"You  see,  it's  this  way,  men.  They  can't 
get  at  us,  for  we've  got  the  boats,  on  which  they 
evidently  counted,  and  they  can't  do  us  much 
harm  unless  they  bring  up  their  heavy  guns. 
And  if  they  do,  this  rotten  old  mill  will  last  no 
time. ' ' 

A  shot  whizzed  past  Maurice  while  he  spoke, 
and  smashed  against  the  wall  near  by,  scatter- 
ing the  mortar,  which  spread  away  in  a  little 
cloud  of  dust.  Shots  came  continually  from 
the  Germans,  who  had  gone  away  from  the  open 
and  had  taken  shelter  among  the  rushes  and 
some  clumps  of  bush,  from  whence  they  sent  a 
perpetual  rain  of  bullets.  Shots  slapped  up 
against  the  stonework  where  Maurice  and  his 
men  lay  low,  always  on  the  keen  watch,  and 
firing  whenever  they  saw  a  German  helmet  or 
a  face  appear.  Sometimes  the  bullets  from  the 
opposite  bank  hit  the  wheel  of  the  mill,  or  broke 
away  in  splinters  some  of  the  woodwork. 

Gibbons  had  disappeared,  and  Maurice  had 
looked  around  for  him  anxiously,  afraid  lest  so 
fine  an  old  soldier  was  lying  dead  on  the  stones, 
like  some  of  his  men.  But  presently  he  came 
from  the  mill,  down  the  staircase  of  which  he 
had  come  almost  headlong.  Maurice  saw  by  his 
face  that  he  had  serious  news. 

"They're  bringing  up  some  heavy  guns,  sir," 


174  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

he  cried;  "and  there's  full  five  hundred  more 
Germans  coming  out  of  the  forest  on  the  right. 
They  mean  to  clear  us  out  some  way." 

"We'll  stick  it  just  the  same,  Gibbons.  What 
do  you  say,  men?" 

"Stick  it,  sir,"  came  the  instant  answer,  for 
'the  soldiers  had  heard  the  sergeant's  word. 
"Corporal   Spink  ought  to  have  got  to  the 
Colonel  by  now." 

It  was  one  of  the  sergeants  answering  for  the 
men,  who  heard  him,  and  backed  him  up  with 
a  loud  cheer.  Then  a  volley  followed,  at 
Maurice's  call,  from  rifles  and  machine  guns, 
right  into  the  rushes.  A  score  of  Germans 
leaped  from  their  cover,  and  many  fell  with  a 
splash  into  the  stream. 

A  surprise  came  while  the  sound  of  that  last 
fusillade  was  dying  away.  The  gates  of  the 
mill  yard  had  been  left  wide  open,  and  through 
the  gateway,  the  sound  of  their  coming  having 
been  covered  by  the  noise  of  the  firing  and  the 
deadening  softness  of  the  grass,  some  horses 
came  at  a  gallop,  bringing  in  some  field  guns. 
An  officer  rode  at  the  head. 

"Where  are  the  Germans,  Lieutenant?"  he 
cried,  pulling  up  when  he  saw  Maurice,  who 
had  gone  forward  to  meet  him.  The  Major  was 
taken  by  surprise  when  he  saw  how  youthful 
the  officer  was  who  was  in  command,  and  had 
held  the  mill.  His  quick  eye  saw  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  men,  and  he  wondered  all  the 
more. 

"Among  the  rushes,  yonder,  sir,  and  among 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL          175 

those  bushes  farther  back,  and  on  towards  the 
forest ;  five  hundred,  sir,  and  another  five  hun- 
dred coming  on  with  some  guns,"  Maurice 
answered  decisively,  and  with  a  coolness  which 
took  the  Major  aback. 

"We'll  have  them  out  of  it,  but  it's  pretty 
close  range.  Clear  your  men  away,  Lieu- 
tenant, and  let  me  line  up  my  guns, ' '  the  artil- 
lery officer  cried.  Then  his  voice  rang  out.  The 
men  he  brought  with  him  seemed  to  move  like 
clockwork;  the  guns  were  swung  round,  and 
almost  before  Maurice  realized  what  was  hap- 
pening the  storm  of  shells  began. 

"I'd  like  a  longer  range,"  the  Major  cried; 
"but  we  must  deal  with  it  as  we  have  it.  Sup- 
pose you  come  with  me  to  the  mill,  and  we'll 
see  what  the  outlook  is  like." 

He  strode  with  Maurice  to  the  mill  door, 
tramped  up  the  creaking  staircase  to  the  gal- 
lery, went  round  it  with  him  in  spite  of  the 
shots  they  drew  upon  themselves ;  then,  since  it 
gave  him  no  clear  view  of  the  country,  the  of- 
ficer moved  away,  and  Maurice,  still  with  him, 
mounted  to  the  upper  part  of  the  mill. 

Meanwhile  the  guns  in  the  yard  were  belching 
out  their  shells,  shaking  the  old  mill,  so  that 
the  floor  rocked  beneath  their  feet.  They 
mounted  yet  higher,  and  climbing  into  the  cap, 
had  a  view  of  the  landscape  for  miles,  observ- 
ing the  heavy  guns  lumbering  towards  them, 
just  as  Gibbons  had  reported. 

"We'll  stop  them,  Millard,"  said  the  Major. 
"Suppose  you  post  yourself  here,  with  this 


176  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

shutter  wide  open.  You  can  see  us  in  the  mill 
yard,  and  tell  us  what  our  range  is  like.  But 
see!  Our  guns  have  cleared  them  out!"  he 
cried  exultantly.  "Did  you  ever  see  anything 
like  it?" 

He  pointed  to  the  other  side  of  the  stream, 
where  the  shells  were  bursting.  The  ground 
among  the  rushes  had  become  a  shambles.  The 
Germans  had  been  stricken  down  by  scores,  and 
now,  panic-stricken,  were  rushing  away,  throw- 
ing down  their  arms  and  packs,  in  spite  of  the 
threats  of  their  officers,  who  shot  them  down 
mercilessly  in  the  endeavor  to  drive  them  back 
to  the  stream. 

"I  must  be  going,"  said  the  Major,  striding 
to  the  ladder.  "Ill  send  one  or  two  signalers 
up,  and  then  you  can  come  down  to  me, 
Millard." 

Before  long  Maurice  saw  him  in  the  yard, 
giving  his  men  directions  for  long-range  firing. 
Maurice  kept  his  eyes  on  the  advancing  guns. 

"They  are  halting,  swinging  into  position," 
he  cried,  in  the  lull  that  had  come,  for  the 
German  infantry  at  the  stream  were  scattering 
like  frightened  sheep  in  a  panic,  and  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  waste  shot  on  them. 

A  gun  thundered  in  making  a  trial  shot,  but 
it  fell  short.  Maurice  gave  the  signal,  and  the 
next  shell  was  nearer  to  the  mark.  A  third  had 
found  the  range,  and  then  the  attack  came  be- 
fore the  Germans  were  ready  with  their  own 
guns.  Maurice  heard  an  artilleryman  mount- 
ing the  ladder,  his  spurs  jingling  as  he  came; 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  THE  MILL          177 

and  then  a  sergeant  stamped  across  the  tremb- 
ling floor. 

"Splendid!"  the  soldier  cried.  "They've 
got  the  range  exactly.  Ha!  that  hit  the  gun. 
It's  smashed!  We  shan't  hear  from  you 
again ! "  he  exclaimed  exultantly.  * '  Come  here, 
corporal,"  he  said  to  a  soldier  who  had  just 
entered  the  place.  "What  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

He  pointed  to  a  battery  which  had  drawn  up 
in  the  open  space  between  the  forests,  where 
the  shell  fire  from  the  mill  yard  was  getting 
home  with  marvellous  precision.  The  artillery 
pounded  away  at  these  guns,  and  again  and 
again  the  soldiers  in  the  cap  of  the  mill  gave 
their  signals,  telling  of  the  damage  our  shells 
were  doing. 

The  gunners  fed  the  breeches,  and  the  guns 
poured  out  their  shells,  whereas  the  Germans, 
either  by  bad  practice  or  because  their  guns 
had  been  so  knocked  about,  sent  but  few  shells 
into  the  mill  yard. 

Yet,  when  these  missiles  rushed  through  the 
air  with  a  shriek,  and  burst  either  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stream  or  above  the  stream  itself, 
lumps  of  earth  and  sheets  of  mud  leaped  up  and 
bespattered  Maurice  and  those  who  were  near 
him.  Sometimes,  too,  a  shrapnel  shell  burst, 
the  fragments  falling  on  the  mill  cap,  rending  a 
great  hole  in  it. 

"A  bit  more  of  that  and  there  will  not  be  any 
mill  left,"  one  of  the  artillerymen  muttered. 
He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  a  shell  crashed 


178  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

into  the  yard,  and  one  of  our  guns  was  de- 
stroyed ;  but  there  was  an  exultant  cry  when  the 
sergeant  in  the  mill  cap  announced  that  five  of 
the  enemy's  guns  were  now  disabled,  that 
almost  every  horse  was  killed,  and  not  men 
enough  were  left  to  work  the  guns  which 
remained. 

"Give  them  a  parting  salvo!"  cried  the 
Major,  who  had  gone  up  to  the  mill  cap  to  see 
the  execution  his  guns  had  done.  The  order 
was  obeyed,  and  the  old  mill  rocked  with  the 
reverberation.  There  was  a  clatter  of  falling 
wood  in  places  in  consequence  of  the  tremen- 
dous shock ;  but  as  the  sound  died  away  the  ser- 
geant's  voice  came  sharp  and  clear: 

"The  guns  are  deserted.  What  men  are  left 
are  scampering  off  as  hard  as  they  can  go!" 

"Then  give  them  another!"  the  Major  cried, 
and  a  storm  of  shells  went  hurtling  through  the 
air,  carrying  with  them  death  and  destruction, 
and  the  assertion  of  a  triumph  for  our  own 
artillery. 


XIV 
PRISONERS  OF  WAR 

THE  night  which  followed  was  one  of  in- 
cessant strife,  for  the  exasperated  enemy 
were  determined  to  win  back  what  they 
had  so  unexpectedly  lost.  Apart  from  the  con- 
tinuous bombardment,  in  which  some  splendid 
young  fellows  were  killed  or  wounded,  there 
came  times  when  hand-to-hand  fighting  took 
place,  desperately  fierce  in  its  character,  and  in 
which  the  Germans  were  outclassed.  The  loss 
on  both  sides  was  terrible,  but  the  British  held 
the  ground,  and  the  Germans  had  to  fall  back 
in  panic. 

The  hours  went  on,  and  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  rest.  The  heavy  bombardment  by 
enemy  guns,  before  the  infantry  came  on  in 
that  wild  and  almost  overwhelming  rush,  had 
done  terrific  damage  to  the  trench,  for  the  para- 
pets, and  trench  walls,  and  dugouts  were 
smashed  up  to  such  an  extent  that  the  fighting 
was  almost  among  ruins.  Still,  it  was  ground 
to  be  held,  and  they  were  not  going  to  suffer 
the  Germans  to  take  it  from  them. 

In  the  lull  the  Captain  set  his  men  to  work 
in  strengthening  their  defenses,  and  putting  the 
battered  places  into  such  order  as  was  possible. 
But  before  it  was  half  done  there  was  some- 

179 


180  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

thing  moving  in  the  darkness  which  made  every 
man  realize  that  it  was  life  or  death  this  time. 
The  Germans  were  coming  on  in  a  mass  so 
dense  that  while  the  machine  guns  and  rifles 
mowed  them  down  at  every  step,  their  number 
seemed  in  no  way  decreased,  and  it  looked  as 
though  our  soldiers  in  the  trench  would  be  com- 
pelled either  to  fall  back  or  fight  to  the  death. 

They  chose  the  latter  alternative,  and  it 
seemed  to  Maurice,  at  the  moment  when  they 
shouted  that  they  would  not  retreat,  that  noth- 
ing could  save  them.  Yet,  when  all  seemed 
doomed  the  Germans  wavered ;  then,  before  the 
merciless  fire,  they  turned  and  fled,  leaving  the 
ground  covered  with  their  dead  and  wounded. 

"They  will  come  again,  men,  but  we  won't 
fall  back!"  the  Captain  cried. 

His  words  were  greeted  with  a  cheer  which 
must  have  surprised  the  Germans,  who  for  one 
long  hour  made  no  further  attack,  giving  the 
defenders  time  to  look  to  their  wounded  and 
put  the  trench  in  better  order. 

"We  are  ready  now,  men,  and  they  can  come 
as  soon  as  they  please,"  the  Captain  said;  but 
the  words  had  scarcely  left  his  lips  when  a  mine 
exploded,  and  the  trench  became  once  more  a 
heap  of  ruins.  Maurice  was  stunned,  and  when 
he  came  to  himself  he  found  that  he  was  almost 
buried  beneath  loose  earth  and  broken  sand- 
bags. He  struggled  to  get  free  from  the  debris, 
and  when  he  had  done  so  he  looked  around. 

How  many  of  his  comrades  were  dead  he 
did  not  know.  He  could  see  the  men  lying 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  181 

about  him,  some  groaning,  but  others  not  mov- 
ing, and  in  the  heap  of  earth  and  sandbags, 
with  a  machine  gun  lying  amid  it  all,  he  saw  a 
hand  which  moved.  It  was  something  living, 
and  dropping  on  his  knees,  he  worked  away 
frantically,  until  he  had  set  a  soldier  free,  bat- 
tered and  bleeding,  but  able  to  stand.  He  saw 
another,  and  he,  too,  was  released.  A  third  was 
dragged  out,  and  a  fourth  as  well. 

But  the  dismay  was  complete  when  Maurice 
saw  that  the  German  mass  of  men  had  come  on 
again  when  the  fragments  had  ceased  to  fly 
after  the  explosion,  and,  leaping  over  the 
trench,  had  cut  off  those  who  were  in  it,  and 
ended  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers  in  over- 
powering those  who  were  not  too  seriously 
wounded  to  fight. 

Maurice  realized  that  he  was  cut  off  com- 
pletely, and,  what  at  the  moment  was  worse 
than  death,  that  he  was  a  prisoner  of  war !  He 
wondered  whether  it  was  possible  to  break 
away,  but  he  saw  three  or  four  of  his  comrades 
making  the  attempt,  and  they  were  shot  down. 
The  thought  came  again  that  he  might  throw 
himself  down  among  the  debris,  and,  crawling 
under  some  of  the  sandbags,  hide  himself  until 
the  chance  came  of  stealing  away  on  hands  and 
knees  back  to  his  own  lines. 

It  was  useless,  for  a  score  of  Germans  were 
returning  from  the  place  where  the  British 
were  fighting  against  the  overwhelming  force. 
They  each  approached  with  fixed  bayonet,  and 
every  rifle  was  pointed  at  him  and  his  bruised 


182  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

and  bleeding  companions,  while  the  officer  in 
command  of  the  detachment  called  aloud  in 
English: 

"Hold  up  your  hands,  or  we  will  shoot!" 

Five  minutes  later  Maurice  and  the  others 
were  ringed  in  with  steel;  a  German  sergeant 
approached,  and  drawing  the  revolver  from 
Maurice's  belt,  and  tossing  it  away,  he  made 
him  stand  aside  while  he  examined  the  others 
to  see  that  they  were  unarmed.  When  that  was 
done  the  little  knot  of  prisoners  were  marched 
towards  the  German  trenches,  halting  under  a 
bunch  of  trees,  out  of  the  firing-line,  but  near 
enough  to  see  how  the  fighting  went. 

In  spite  of  their  own  misfortune  in  becom- 
ing prisoners,  they  watched  with  exultation. 
The  great  tide  of  Germans  had  swept  the 
ruined  trench,  only  because  of  that  unexpected 
mine  explosion;  but  the  men  who  had  held  it 
so  gallantly,  and  were  compelled  to  fall  back, 
were  making  a  stand  in  the  trench  they  had 
originally  occupied. 

"They're  holding  up  the  Boches,"  muttered 
one  of  our  men,  speaking  low  lest  the  Germans 
should  hear.  The  ground  was  so  high  that  in 
the  light  of  the  daydawn  they  could  see  all  that 
was  passing. 

"Isn't  that  Bedmayne?"  cried  Maurice  in 
amazement. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  leaning 
forward  and  gazing  keenly. 

"I  left  him  in  hospital,"  Maurice  exclaimed; 
but  he  broke  off  and  watched,  with  his  lips 


Redmayne   Put   Forth   His    Splendid    Strength   and   Hurled 
Him    Back. 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  183 

parted.  The  Germans  had  rushed  at  the 
trench,  only  to  be  thrown  back  with  bayonet 
thrusts  and  machine-gun  fire;  but  one  of  the 
enemy's  officers  (a  man  of  rather  small  stature) 
managed  to  leap  into  the  trench.  Redmayne 
was  on  the  spot,  and  standing  his  rifle  against 
the  wall  of  the  trench,  he  caught  hold  of  and 
lifted  the  German  in  his  hands,  and  swaying 
for  a  moment  with  the  weight,  put  forth  his 
splendid  strength  and  hurled  him  back,  so  that 
he  fell  heavily  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay, 
bruised  and  stunned. 

It  was  a  magnificent  effort  even  for  so  strong 
a  man,  and  a  moment  later  Redmayne  had 
caught  up  his  rifle,  and  was  holding  his  part 
with  the  energy  of  a  hero,  regardless  of  his 
wounded  hand. 

A  great  hope  sprang  up  in  Maurice's  breast 
— the  hope  of  escape  after  all  from  the  misery 
that  was  the  well-known  lot  of  a  prisoner  among 
the  Germans.  The  enemy  were  being  swept 
back,  for  a  fresh  battalion  had  come  forward 
to  support  the  struggling  men  in  the  trench. 
While  the  defenders  bent  low,  the  newcomers 
leaped  across,  and  Maurice  thought  he  had 
never  seen  such  a  splendid  sight.  With  bayo- 
nets gleaming  in  the  morning  sun,  they  plunged 
the  keen  steel  forward,  and  the  Germans  drew 
back  to  avoid  the  deadly  thrusts.  Then  the 
battalion  came  on,  never  wavering,  and  shout- 
ing, driving  the  Germans  before  them.  Nothing 
could  stop  them  till  they  had  come  to  the 
ruined  trench. 


184  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

There  they  paused,  for  as  the  retreating 
Germans  drew  away  from  the  front  of  their 
own  trenches,  leaving  the  intermediate  space 
clear  (save  for  the  dead  and  the  wounded  that 
lay  there,  and  the  weapons  which  some  of  the 
scared  soldiers  had  thrown  away  in  their 
flight),  a  withering  fire  burst  on  them.  Rifles 
from  what  had  once  been  a  German  trench,  and 
the  concentrated  gun-fire  of  shrapnel  from 
some  artillery  created  such  a  curtain  of  fire 
that  advance  to  retrieve  their  losses  was  im- 
possible. 

The  hope  which  Maurice  had  now  died  away. 
Even  while  the  British  soldiers  leaped  into  the 
ruined  trench  to  hold  it  against  all  comers,  the 
sergeant  and  half  a  dozen  men  came  to  Maurice. 

"Do  you  speak  German?"  the  non-commis- 
sioned officer  asked  roughly. 

"Yes." 

"Then  tell  these  men  of  yours  that  we  are 
going  to  the  base,  where  you  will  be  put  with 
other  prisoners  of  war;  and  be  sharp  about 
it!"  he  added  angrily;  for  this  German,  like 
the  others  who  were  with  him,  was  filled  with 
chagrin  to  think  that  they  had  been  foiled,  and 
so  roughly  mauled  when  success  seemed  so 
assured. 

"Can't  you  give  us  some  food?"  said  Mau- 
rice, for  he  and  his  men  were  feeling  famished. 
Nothing  had  passed  his  lips  for  many  hours 
and  the  long  night  had  passed  in  incessant 
fighting. 

"I  could,  but  I  won't !"  the  German  answered 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  185 

curtly.  ' '  Tell  your  men  to  move  on.  We  have 
six  miles'  marching  to  do." 

He  stood  impatiently,  and  at  last  the  little 
company  was  on  the  move.  A  mile  away  from 
the  bunch  of  trees,  where  they  had  watched  the 
fight,  they  came  to  a  village,  and  while  they 
marched  down  the  long  and  narrow  street,  the 
people  come  out  of  their  houses  to  curse  them 
for  Englishmen.  Four  miles  farther  on,  after 
a  tramp  along  a  dusty  road,  choked  in  places 
with  wagons,  and  heavy  artillery,  and  ammuni- 
tion-carts, and  jeered  at  while  they  halted  by 
the  Boches,  who  counted  it  fine  sport  to  abuse 
and  spit  on  their  gallant  enemies,  they  came 
to  a  railway  station,  where  two  or  three  hun- 
dred English  prisoners  were  already  waiting. 
Some  of  them  were  wounded,  and  had  been 
roughly  attended,  while  many,  worn  out  with 
their  march,  and  the  intensity  of  their  pain, 
squatted  in  the  dusty  road,  or  on  some  boxes 
of  shells  and  ammunition  that  were  waiting  to 
be  carried  forward  to  the  front. 

"Get  off  that!"  cried  a  fussy  officer,  when 
he  saw  what  the  worn-out  men  were  doing. 
"I'll  have  none  of  that  here,"  he  added  sharply. 

"Can't  you  see  that  the  poor  fellows  are 
wounded,  every  one  of  them?"  protested  an 
English  Major,  who  was  among  the  prisoners. 

"I  don't  care  for  that!"  came  the  snappy 
answer.  "What  are  English  swine  to  me?" 
he  asked  a  moment  later,  turning  on  the  officer, 
his  face  purple  with  sudden  passion.  "If  you 
dare  to  talk  to  me  I'll  have  you  shot,"  he  cried, 


186  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

in  an  access  of  anger,  for  he  was  told  that  this 
Major,  with  his  men,  had  flung  the  escort-ser- 
geant's company  back  in  wild  confusion  a  day 
or  two  before.  He  had  a  riding-whip  in  his 
hand,  and,  raising  it,  slashed  the  officer  across 
the  face,  and  left  a  livid  line  there. 

It  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  stand. 
Regardless  of  the  consequences,  the  Major 
flung  out  his  hand,  clutched  at  the  wrist  which 
held  the  whip  and  gripped  it  so  tightly  that  the 
German  screamed  with  pain.  He  tore  the  whip 
from  the  man's  grasp  and  still  holding  his 
wrist  lashed  at  him  until  the  fellow  writhed 
and  cried  for  mercy. 

It  was  a  mad  thing  for  an  English  officer 
to  do  even  under  such  provocation.  As  he 
wrenched  the  whip  away,  he  hurled  the  German 
headlong  from  him.  The  man  staggered  back- 
wards, and  unable  to  hold  himself  on  his  feet, 
struck  heavily  against  the  wheel  of  a  wagon. 
The  blow,  as  his  head  crashed  on  it,  stunned 
him,  and  he  lay  there,  still  and  helpless,  until 
some  of  the  guard,  who  came  too  late  to  inter- 
fere, went  to  his  help. 

A  Colonel  rode  up,  his  face  dark  with  fury. 
He  had  seen  and  heard  it  all,  and  knew  how 
great  the  provocation  was,  but  that  was  noth- 
ing to  him.  The  fact  that  a  prisoner  of  war 
had  dared  to  lift  his  hand  against  a  German, 
brutal  though  he  had  been,  was  warrant  in  his 
estimation  for  anything.  He  called  up  some 
soldiers,  and  without  a  word  beyond  a  protest 
that  he  would  not  stand  that  sort  of  work  from 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  187 

a  hateful  Englishman,  ordered  the  men  to  form 
in  line. 

The  Major  was  standing  proudly  with  his 
back  to  the  station  wall,  facing  the  Colonel. 
He  knew  he  had  done  unwisely,  but  he  was 
ready  for  the  consequences.  He  made  no  ex- 
planations, and  none  were  asked  for.  There 
was  no  trial,  and  no  time  for  prayer.  The 
order  came  sharply,  and  half  a  dozen  rifles  were 
levelled  at  him. 

"Fire!"  exclaimed  the  officer;  and  at  the 
word  there  were  flashes,  the  loud  report  of  a 
sudden  volley,  and  the  Major  fell  dead  upon 
the  stones. 

"  'Tis  murder!"  came  an  angry  cry  from 
the  English  prisoners,  and  even  the  wounded, 
some  scarce  able  to  stand,  sprang  to  their  feet 
to  make  their  protest ;  but  another  sharp  order 
came,  and  the  German  soldiers,  whose  rifles 
were  still  smoking,  swung  round,  the  weapons 
were  charged  again,  and  the  shining  mouths 
of  the  rifles  were  seen  by  the  unarmed,  help- 
less men. 

Dazed  and  exhausted,  hungry  and  unhappy, 
Maurice  shivered  with  horror.  If  this  was  a 
foretaste  of  the  prison-life  in  store  for  him  and 
his  comrades,  would  it  be  possible  that  he  would 
ever  get  home  again?  He  had  heard  of  German 
brutality,  and  sometimes  thought  it  must  be 
exaggerated;  but  it  was  here,  before  his  eyes, 
and  his  heart  sank  at  the  prospect. 

As  yet  the  body  of  the  Major  lay  on  the 
stones,  and  no  one  save  Maurice,  who  was 


188  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

nearest,  went  to  him.  He  dropped  on  his 
knees  to  feel  the  pulse,  and  knew  that  he  was 
dead ;  but  while  he  knelt  he  felt  himself  roughly 
kicked. 

"Get  out  of  that,"  same  a  snarling  cry,  and 
looking  up,  Maurice  saw  the  scowling  face  of 
the  sergeant  who  had  brought  him  there. 

1  'I  thought  he  might  not  be  dead,"  Maurice 
protested  spiritedly,  too  proud  to  allow  this 
German  to  know  how  much  he  had  hurt  him. 

"I  don't  care  what  you  thought.  Get  up, 
or  I'll  empty  my  revolver  into  you." 

The  man's  fingers  played  with  the  weapon 
at  his  belt,  and  Maurice,  rising  slowly  to  hig 
feet,  turned  his  back  on  the  soldier  and  moved 
away. 

A  call  came  from  the  Colonel,  and  the  ser-. 
geant  went  up  to  him,  just  as  an  empty  train 
ran  into  the  station.  Maurice,  smarting  with 
the  vicious  kick,  looked  at  it.  It  was  made  up 
of  little  better  than  cattle-trucks,  some  with 
rough  forms,  but  many  with  none  at  all.  The 
wounded  and  unhurt  alike  were  ordered  into 
the  station,  and  told  to  go  into  these  uncom- 
.fortable  trucks.  There  was  no  straw  for  any 
of  them  to  lie  down  on,  and  many  were  wounded 
so  sorely  that  when  they  stumbled  it  was  im- 
possible for  them  to  get  on  their  feet  again 
without  being  lifted  by  those  who  had  received 
no  injury.  Even  that  small  attention  irritated 
the  Germans  who  had  to  pack  away  the  pris- 
oners. 

"Why  do  not  you  give  the  prisoners  some 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  189 

food  before  they  start  on  their  journey!"  an 
English  Captain  exclaimed,  jumping  out  of  the 
van  where  he  had  been  crowded  in  with  the 
other  men,  and  stalking  to  the  spot  where  the 
German  Colonel,  still  in  the  saddle,  was  super- 
intending the  loading  of  the  train. 

"Go  back  at  once,"  was  the  insolent  retort. 
1  'If  you  dare  to  put  questions  to  me,  I'll  do 
with  you  as  I  have  done  with  that  Major  yon- 
der." He  pointed  to  the  body  which  lay  still 
at  the  foot  of  the  wall.  German  soldiers  were 
standing  around,  smoking  their  pipes,  officers 
and  men  alike,  and  at  this  answer  there  was 
a  loud  burst  of  derisive  laughter.  The  Cap- 
tain, however,  answered  with  spirit: 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  that  were  you  a  pris- 
oner among  my  countrymen,  you  would  be 
treated  as  a  gentleman." 

His  face  colored  at  the  fresh  burst  of  insult- 
ing jeers  and  mocking  laughter,  but  he  turned 
and,  walking  away,  clambered  into  the  cattle- 
van  with  his  men. 

The  train  moved  on,  and  no  attention  had 
been  given  to  the  wounded.  Maurice  was  the 
only  one  in  his  van  who  was  able  to  lend  First 
Aid,  but  the  unwounded  prisoners  helped  him 
to  clear  a  space  to  which  they  shifted  those 
who  were  suffering  from  all  sorts  of  wounds; 
and,  to  make  the  lying  easier  for  them,  covered 
the  bare,  boarded  floor  with  their  overcoats. 
Maurice's  experience  as  a  Scout  served  him 
in  splendid  stead,  but  in  spite  of  his  skill  he 
could  do  but  little  for  the  men  because  he  had 


190  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

no  dressings.  The  worst  of  their  sufferings 
seemed  to  be  from  thirst,  but  the  other  men 
sent  up  what  little  stock  of  water  they  had,  and 
Maurice  served  it  out  as  sparingly  as  possible, 
not  knowing  how  long  the  journey  before  them 
might  be. 

Again  and  again  the  train  was  run  into  sid- 
ings to  allow  heavy  loads  of  ammunition  to 
go  by.  Trains  went  past,  packed  with  soldiers 
who  were  being  hurried  from  the  Kussian  front 
to  take  part  in  those  fierce  but  fruitless  attacks 
on  the  British  lines,  and  when  one  so  loaded 
chanced  to  slow  down  near  to  the  siding,  and 
they  saw  the  British  prisoners,  the  soldiers 
hurled  shameful  epithets  at  them,  and  several 
pointed  their  rifles  in  their  direction. 

No  food  was  served,  although  the  journey 
was  lengthened  out  to  nine  long  hours. 

"Can  you  not  give  my  men  something  to 
eat?"  an  officer  asked  of  one  who  had  just 
stepped  out  of  a  luxurious  saloon  carriage  at- 
tached to  the  train. 

The  German  chuckled. 

"I  could  if  I  would.  Yonder  is  an  hotel, 
capable  of  serving  every  man  here  with  capons, 
beef,  luscious  fruit — a  score  of  good  things,  and 
it  would  be  served  on  the  instant  were  I  to  give 
the  order;  but  I  do  not  mean  to  do  so,"  he 
exclaimed,  lighting  a  cigar  leisurely.  "Any- 
thing more  to  ask?"  he  said,  as  he  tossed  the 
match  away. 

"Yes.  There  are  scores  of  wounded  men 
here,  some  near  to  death,  and  every  man  suffer- 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  191 

ing  excruciating  pain,  aggravated  by  thirst. 
Can't  you  do  something  for  them?" 

"I  tell  you  I  could  if  I  would;  but  I  won't," 
was  the  callous  answer,  and  the  German  spat 
on  the  ground  to  show  his  contempt.  He 
turned  away  and  strolled  back  to  his  saloon 
just  in  time  to  step  in  before  the  train  began 
to  move. 

At  a  siding,  where  the  train  was  shunted  to 
make  room  for  some  German  Eed  Cross  trains 
to  pass  on  in  haste  for  the  front,  the  tenth  the 
prisoners  had  counted  in  that  tormenting  jour- 
ney, Maurice  saw  two  buckets  standing  near  to 
a  tap  which  dripped  its  water  on  the  stones. 
The  intolerable  thirst  of  the  wounded  soldiers 
in  his  van  rendered  him  daring.  He  clambered 
out,  dropped  on  the  line,  then  ran  to  where  the 
buckets  stood.  One  was  full,  but  he  placed  the 
second  under  the  tap,  filled  it,  and  hurried  to 
his  truck,  handing  up  the  buckets  one  by  one, 
brimming  with  clear  water.  As  the  last  one 
left  his  hand,  and  he  began  to  climb  back  to  the 
van,  a  shot  whistled  past  him,  while  a  cry  of 
execration  burst  from  the  lips  of  those  who 
saw  the  soldier  begin  to  reload  his  weapon. 
Hands  were  put  out  to  pull  Maurice  in,  and  he 
had  barely  been  drawn  out  of  danger  when  a 
second  shot  came,  but  missed,  striking  the  side 
of  the  truck,  and  tumbling  to  the  railway  track. 

"It  would  have  been  a  big  price  to  pay  for 
a  drop  of  water,"  exclaimed  a  non-com.,  who 
made  room  for  Maurice  at  his  side. 

"The  water  is  worth  something  for  the  poor 


192  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

fellows  over  there,"  said  Maurice,  nodding 
towards  the  wounded,  while  he  pulled  his  dis- 
ordered tunic  into  place. 

He  had  barely  said  this  when  the  officer  they 
had  so  often  seen  came  stalking  along  the  line 
with  a  face  that  was  dark  with  anger. 

"Where  is  that  water?"  he  cried,  in  fluent 
English. 

"It  is  being  served  out  to  the  wounded  and 
dying  in  this  truck,"  responded  the  Captain 
who  had  done  so  much  to  second  Maurice's  ef- 
forts to  give  the  poor  fellows  ease. 

"Hand  it  back  at  once,"  the  German  cried. 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  English  Captain, 
scandalized.  "Do  you  mean  what  you  say?" 

"I  never  say  what  I  do  not  mean,"  was  the 
angry  retort.  "I  will  have  those  buckets 
back." 

There  were  menacing  sounds  among  the  pris- 
oners, and  the  German  inadvertently  stepped, 
back,  as  though  he  expected  rough  treatment, 
for  he  saw  the  scowling  faces  of  those  who 
looked  at  him,  not  only  from  this  van,  but  from 
others  to  right  and  left. 

The  bucket  was  not  handed  back,  even  when 
he  repeated  his  demand,  and  with  a  loud  cry 
he  called  up  a  couple  of  soldiers  to  his  side. 

"I  repeat  my  demand,"  the  German  cried, 
beside  himself  with  fury.  "Hand  out  those 
buckets,  or  I  will  order  my  men  to  fire  among 
you." 

Silence  that  was  ominous  followed,  but  to 
refuse  was  impossible. 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR  193 

1  *  Give  the  buckets  back, ' '  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain, and  the  water  came,  untasted. 

"Ye  want  the  water  back?"  cried  an  Irish- 
man, whose  face  had  been  working  with  indig- 
nation. "How  will  ye  have  it,  Colonel?" 

There  was  laughter  at  the  question,  angry 
though  the  prisoners  were;  but  louder  yet  it 
came,  a  burst  of  uproar  almost  hysterical, 
when  the  soldier  turned  the  first  bucket  over 
and  drenched  the  German  officer.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  train  began  to  move.  The  officer  was 
too  taken  by  surprise  to  notice  the  fact,  but 
stood  there,  dripping,  until  the  trucks  and  vans 
swept  past  at  such  a  pace  that,  although  he  ran 
swiftly,  he  was  left  behind. 


XV 

THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL 

THERE  was  such  a  shortage  of  doctors 
and  nurses  at  the  hospital  to  which  the 
wounded  prisoners  were  taken  that  or- 
ders were  sent  to  the  prison  camp  to  send  up 
the  most  expert  among  the  English  in  First 
Aid.  It  meant  that  Maurice  was  one,  since  it 
was  known  how  he  had  tended  those  who  were 
in  the  train. 

In  that  way  he  escaped  many  of  the  miseries 
the  other  prisoners  endured,  but  he  was  kept 
at  his  work  so  incessantly  that  he  sometimes 
nearly  dropped  with  fatigue.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  favor  he  won  from  the  nurses,  who 
grew  to  like  him,  in  spite  of  his  being  an  Eng- 
lishman, he  must  have  broken  down  by  reason 
of  the  amount  of  hard  work  which  was  heaped 
upon  him. 

It  was  galling  to  hear  what  some  of  the  sick 
men  told  him  who  were  brought  up  from  the 
prisoners '  camp ;  the  abominable  food  that  was 
served  out,  and  the  restrictions  which  in  reality 
were  worse  than  they  appeared  to  be  when  read 
out  by  one  of  the  German  officers  once  a  week. 

"You  are  prisoners  of  the  great  German 
Empire.  If  you  are  found  with  any  imple- 
ments of  war,  such  as  knives,  nails,  revolvers, 

194 


THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL          195 

bayonets,  or  the  like,  the  penalty  is  death  by 
shooting.  For  disobedience  to  German  officers 
the  penalty  is  death.  English  prisoners  may 
not  correspond  with  their  friends  unless  by 
special  permission  of  the  Commandant  of  the 
camp.  Those  who  are  of  good  behavior  will 
be  fed  and  clothed.  In  the  event  of  disobe- 
dience the  penalty  will  be  isolation  cell  for 
such  a  term  as  the  Commandant  may  fix." 

Maurice  had  heard  this  read  when  he  and 
his  fellow  prisoners  stepped  out  of  the  train, 
before  any  food  was  served,  and  before  any 
attention  was  given  to  the  wounded,  whose  pain 
had  been  aggravated  by  the  journey  in  the 
blazing  heat  of  a  summer's  day.  It  was  read 
by  an  officer  who  stood  in  the  doorway  between 
two  wards  where  Maurice  was  engaged,  and 
wrhere  the  majority  of  those  who  suffered  and 
groaned  on  their  beds  were  wounded  English- 
men. He  thought  himself  fortunate  in  having 
escaped  the  experience  of  the  other  prisoners, 
whose  hair  was  cropped  close,  as  if  they  had 
been  convicts. 

Worn  out  with  incessant  work,  Maurice  be- 
came homesick,  like  nine  out  of  every  ten  of 
the  poor  fellows  who  were  lying  in  the  hospital 
so  full  of  pain.  One  of  the  nurses  took  him  to 
her  room  and  told  him  to  lie  there  and  rest, 
since  she  was  on  duty  for  the  night,  and  her 
room  was  free. 

"There's  writing-paper,  and  ink,  and  en- 
velopes," she  whispered,  as  she  stood  in  the 
doorway,  looking  all  ways  to  see  that  no  one 


196  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

had  watched  him  enter.  "I'll  lock  the  door, 
lest  anyone  should  find  you,"  she  added,  closing 
the  door  on  him. 

His  mind  was  full  of  home,  and  although  he 
was  tired  out,  he  sat  at  the  table  and  wrote 
a  letter  in  which  he  described  all  that  had  hap- 
pened since  he  had  been  taken  a  prisoner.  His 
whole  heart  went  into  that  letter,  and  the  act 
of  unburdening  his  mind  eased  him  greatly. 

When  he  flung  himself  on  the  bed  he  slept 
a  dreamless  sleep,  but  was  awakened  roughly. 
He  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  startled  face 
of  the  nurse,  who  was  bending  over  and  shaking 
him. 

"Wake  up,  and  come  at  once!  The  Com- 
mandant of  the  camp  is  going  the  round  of 
the  wards  on  a  surprise  visit.  He  thinks  we 
are  too  kind  in  this  hospital,  and  wants  to  see 
for  himself." 

Maurice  sprang  off  the  bed,  wide  awake  with 
the  news.  The  nurse  stood  in  the  doorway 
and  looked  down  the  passage. 

"Go  at  once, ' '  she  whispered  back.  * ' There 's 
time  if  you  are  quick.  If  the  Commandant  or 
anyone  else  should  see  you  here  you  will  be 
sent  to  the  cells,  and  they  are  horrible.  Oh, 
horrible!  Go!" 

Maurice  brushed  past  her  while  she  spoke, 
and  going  into  the  ward,  began  to  busy  himself 
among  the  patients.  He  was  bending  over  a 
sick  soldier  when  the  Commandant  entered. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  sternly,  turning 
to  Maurice. 


THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL         197 

"I  am  Lieutenant  Millard." 

"An  Englishman?'* 

"Yes." 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I  was  sent  here  because  men  who  under- 
stood First  Aid  would  be  useful,"  Maurice 
answered. 

The  Commandant  looked  him  up  and  down, 
but  Maurice  bore  himself  quietly,  showing 
nothing  like  obsequiousness. 

"What  is  that?"  the  German  asked,  and  put- 
ting out  his  hand,  he  drew  a  letter  out  of  one 
of  Maurice's  pockets.  It  was  the  letter  he  had 
written  home. 

"  'Tis  a  letter  I  was  going  to  send  home  to 
my  father  and  mother,  provided  I  had  your 
permission,  which  I  understand  is  necessary," 
said  Maurice,  finding  it  difficult  to  speak  with 
restraint. 

"That  is  perfectly  true,"  said  the  Com- 
mandant, but  Maurice  went  hot  when  the  sol- 
dier broke  open  the  envelope. 

1  *  Excuse  me,  sir, ' '  he  protested.  '  *  The  letter 
is  private." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  other,  lifting  his  heavy 
eyebrows.  "Allow  me  to  tell  you  that  nothing 
is  private  where  a  prisoner  is  concerned." 

He  opened  the  letter  and  read  it,  long  though 
it  was,  page  by  page,  missing  nothing;  and 
Maurice,  watching  the  man's  stolid  face,  could 
not  tell  whether  he  was  pleased  or  angry.  But 
his  hand  went  out  involuntarily  when  the  Com- 
mandant deliberately  tore  the  sheets  in  half, 


198  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

and  then  across  again,  and  tossed  the  pieces 
into  the  stove  close  by. 

"You  have  destroyed  my  letter,"  exclaimed 
Maurice,  who  felt  a  hot  spot  on  each  cheek. 

"Tell  me  something  I  do  not  know,"  said 
the  Commandant  callously,  not  heeding  the 
gleam  in  Maurice's  eyes,  which  gave  the  sus- 
picion of  tears.  "I  will  tell  you  something  on 
my  own  account.  You  will  write  no  more  let- 
ters. Do  you  hear?" 

Maurice  did  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and 
the  Commandant  said  more. 

"If  by  any  means  you  write  a  letter,  and  it 
is  discovered  that  you  have  done  so,  I  will  have 
you  put  into  solitary  confinement  for  twenty 
days. ' ' 

The  Commandant  pulled  out  a  note-book  and 
wrote  something  in  it. 

"What  did  you  say  your  name  and  rank 
were  ? ' ' 

"Lieutenant  Millard." 

There  was  no  answer.  Maurice  heard  the 
snap  of  the  elastic  band  about  the  note-book. 
It  was  dropped  into  the  officer's  pocket,  and 
without  a  word  the  Commandant  moved  on, 
looking  keenly  to  right  and  left,  missing  no 
one,  but  pausing  again  and  again  to  pro- 
test against  what  he  called  superfluous  com- 
fort. 

Maurice  expected  to  be  called  away  from  the 
hospital  work,  and  set  like  other  prisoners  to 
heavy  tasks  about  the  camps,  but  no  change 
came  until  he  was  summoned  at  five  minutes' 


THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL          199 

notice  to  go  to  a  prisoners'  camp  twenty  miles 
away. 

''God  help  you,  dear  boy,"  exclaimed  the 
head  nurse,  who  had  done  much  to  lessen  the 
trouble  for  Maurice,  and  now  held  out  her 
hand,  while  her  eyes  brimmed  with  tears. 
"  'Tis  horrible  there,  so  we  are  told." 

Maurice  shook  her  hand  and  turned  away. 
A  few  hours  later  he  was  in  the  camp  the  nurse 
had  mentioned,  and  under  .vent  the  indignity  of 
a  search  which  ended  in  his  being  short  of 
everything  he  possessed,  save  the  clothes  he 
stood  up  in.  His  money  was  taken  from  him, 
and  he  was  left  penniless.  If  he  had  wished 
to  write  home  he  had  nothing  with  which  to 
pay  the  postage,  so  that  he  faced  his  searchers 
no  better  off  than  the  beggar  he  might  meet 
on  the  road. 

"Your  quarters  are  there,"  said  the  officer 
who  took  him  in  charge  as  soon  as  the  search 
was  over,  and  he  had  been  registered.  Stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  the  German  waited  until 
Maurice  stepped  past  him  into  a  room  which 
would  have  been  miserable  in  the  eyes  of  the 
most  beggarly  of  tramps,  who  would  have  been 
almost  willing  to  put  up  with  anything. 

"You  will  find  the  quarters  comfortable, 
Lieutenant,"  said  the  German,  with  a  sneer; 
"good  enough  at  all  events  for  such  swine  as 
the  English.  By  the  way,  here  is  a  copy  of 
the  regulations,  and  I  should  advise  you  to 
study  them  well,  unless  you  wish  to  run  the 
risk  of  being  led  out  some  morning  to  the  wall 


200  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

yonder,  where  yesterday  four  like  yourself 
stood  blindfolded,  and  were  shot  for  disregard 
of  orders." 

He  held  out  a  dirty-looking  pamphlet,  and 
Maurice,  hesitating,  took  it  in  his  hand. 

''When  shall  I  have  something  to  eat?"  he 
asked  quietly,  for  he  was  feeling  faint  with 
hunger. 

1  'When  the  others  get  theirs,"  was  the  inso- 
lent reply.  "To-night,  perhaps.  Probably  not 
till  to-morrow  morning.  Food  is  too  scarce, 
owing  to  the  British  blockade,  and  you  will  find 
here  that  it  is  German  first,  in  the  way  of  food, 
and  English  prisoner  next,  if  any  food  is  left. 
Here  is  your  ward." 

The  officer  pulled  the  door  after  him,  and 
Maurice  was  left  standing  just  within  the  door, 
and  looked  about  with  dismay.  The  floor  was 
filthy;  the  windows  were  broken,  but  in  places 
some  of  the  prisoners  had  contrived  to  patch 
the  holes  with  paper,  or  had  stuffed  them  with 
rags  to  keep  out  the  rain.  All  around  were 
mattresses  which  were  unfit  for  anything  hu- 
man to  lie  upon. 

"Is  that  Lieutenant  Millard?"  a  soldier 
asked,  coming  out  of  a  corner  and  making  his 
salute. 

"Why,  it's  Cross!"  Maurice  exclaimed,  put- 
ting out  his  hand  and  gripping  that  of  the  sol- 
dier, which  came  out  reluctantly. 

"It's  hardly  proper,  sir,  for  a  private  to 
shake  hands  with  the  officer  of  his  own  pla- 
toon," the  man  protested. 


THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL          201 

1  'Anything  is  proper,  Cross,  now  that  we  are 
brothers  in  misfortune.  You  look  a  lot  worse 
for  the  fight,"  said  Maurice,  gazing  at  the  sol- 
dier 's  bandaged  hand  and  his  wan  face — a  man 
who  ought  to  have  been  in  bed,  and  not  having 
to  rough  it  as  he  was  doing  now.  "I'll  tell 
them  you  ought  to  be  in  hospital,"  Maurice 
exclaimed  indignantly. 

"It  wouldn't  make  a  scrap  of  difference," 
said  Cross.  "Besides,  the  hospital  is  full  up 
to  the  door.  They  have  Russians  there,  Bel- 
gians, and  Frenchmen,  as  well  as  Englishmen 
and  Serbians;  and  what  with  neglect  and  bad 
food,  and  rough  treatment,  and  no  proper 
bandages  and  medicine,  the  place  is  no  better 
than  a  fever  den." 

The  door  opened  and  a  couple  of  Germans 
came  in  noisily,  carrying  a  basket  filled  with 
black  bread,  and  covered  buckets  which  con- 
tained a  steaming  liquid. 

"Stand  in  a  row  for  rations,"  a  sergeant 
cried. 

"That's  what  they  call  tea,  sir,"  said  Cross, 
who  stood  by  Maurice,  knowing  that  it  was  the 
only  way  to  get  food.  Bad  though  it  was,  it 
was  better  than  starvation;  something  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together  until  the  real  joy-day 
came,  when  the  war  would  be  over  and  they 
could  go  home. 

Maurice  was  among  the  first  to  be  served, 
being  nearest  to  the  door,  and  his  allowance 
was  handed  to  him — a  chunk  of  black-looking, 
unwholesome  bread,  made  of  bran  and  potatoes. 


202  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Where's  your  can?"  the  sergeant  asked, 
staring  at  Maurice. 

"I  haven't  one.  I  have  but  just  arrived,  and 
none  has  been  given  to  me, ' '  Maurice  answered 
in  German,  which  made  the  soldier  stare  the 
more. 

"Then  you  go  without,  unless  you  care  to 
scoop  up  a  handful, ' '  he  said,  in  an  unpleasant 
tone. 

"That  is  impossible,"  Maurice  said,  in  real 
surprise  at  the  suggestion. 

"Then  you  go  without,  unless  there's  an 
empty  can  anywhere  about.  Where's  the  cup 
belonging  to  that  Russian  who  was  buried  this 
morning?"  the  sergeant  cried. 

"It's  here,"  exclaimed  a  man  at  the  other 
end  of  the  row,  coming  forward  with  a  tin  can 
at  quick  strides. 

"Give  it  to  that  English  fellow,"  said  the 
soldier,  pointing  insolently  to  Maurice. 

Maurice  took  it  from  the  Russian  with  a 
word  of  thanks,  but  looked  doubtfully  at  the 
cup.  It  was  filthy,  and  to  drink  out  of  it, 
knowing  that  the  man  who  last  drank  from  it 
had  died  of  a  virulent  fever,  was  impossible. 

' '  Come,  smarten  up ! "  cried  the  German  im- 
patiently. "I  can't  stand  here  all  the  evening. 
Hold  out  your  cup  and  get  your  allowance." 

"It  is  impossible  until  it  has  been  cleaned." 

"Then  go  without,"  came  the  brutal  re- 
sponse, and  the  soldier's  hand  pushed  Maurice 
back  roughly. 

"You  shall  share  with  me,  sir,"  said  Cross, 


THE  PRISONERS'  HOSPITAL          203 

as  the  soldiers  moved  down  the  line,  made  up 
of  war  prisoners  of  different  nationalities. 

"Then  you  go  short." 

"I  shall  be  sorry  if  you  say  'no,'  because  of 
that,  sir,"  Cross  said,  holding  out  his  cup. 
"Drink  first,  please." 

"I'll  not  touch  it  until  you  have  had  some, 
Cross." 

"Then  let  us  sit  down  on  my  mattress,  and 
we  can  sip  as  we  eat." 

The  food  at  the  hospital,  where  Maurice  had 
been  taking  nurse  duty,  had  been  almost  loath- 
some, but  this,  served  out  to  the  ordinary  pris- 
oners, was  worse.  It  was  only  absolute  hunger 
which  compelled  Maurice  to  eat  it. 

Worn  out,  wondering,  too,  how  he  was  to 
endure  a  life  like  this  for  months,  perhaps 
years,  if  the  war  lasted  so  long,  Maurice  flung 
himself  on  his  filthy  mattress  and  slept  until 
Cross  shook  him  gently. 

"  'Tis  six  o'clock,  sir,  and  we  are  supposed 
to  get  up." 

Maurice  felt  better  for  his  sleep,  and  he 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Where  shall  I  get  a  wash,  Cross?"  he 
asked,  staring  about,  and  wondering  by  which 
door  he  should  go  out  to  find  soap  and  water. 

"Nowhere,  sir." 

"What!  Do  you  mean  that!"  Maurice  cried, 
his  eyes  opening  wide  with  astonishment. 

"It's  the  German  way,  sir.  Part  of  their 
kultur  is  to  reduce  cleanliness  to  a  minimum, 
and  bring  down  human  pride  to  the  finest  point 


204  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

of  nothingness,"  said  Cross,  with  sarcasm.  "I 
haven't  had  a  wash  for  a  week.  It's  just  pos- 
sible, if  we  chance  to  have  a  good-natured  offi- 
cer to  march  us  out  for  exercise,  that  he  will 
allow  us  to  dabble  about  in  any  stream  we  come 
to,  but  it's  only  a  chance.  Even  then  there's 
no  soap  to  be  had  for  love  or  money." 

"I  have  no  money.  They  took  it  all  away — 
nearly  five  dollars  in  gold  and  silver, ' '  Maurice 
explained  despairingly. 

1 1 1  haven 't  a  cent,  either, ' '  said  Cross.  ' '  I  've 
been  wanting  to  write  home  to  my  wife, 
but  although  they  took  all  I  had  they  wouldn't 
give  me  a  stamp.  See!  There's  the  letter, 
waiting  for  the  stamp." 

Cross  pulled  an  envelope  from  his  pocket.  It 
had  gone  black  at  the  edges  with  keeping,  and 
much  hopeless  looking  at  for  so  many  weeks, 
and  fine  a  fellow  as  Maurice  had  known  him 
to  be,  he  noticed  how  one  tear  rolled  down 
his  cheek,  and  another  splashed  on  the  en- 
velope. 

The  week  went  on,  every  day  the  same,  but 
the  misery  accumulating.  Cross  grew  weaker, 
and  had  to  walk  on  Maurice's  arm;  but  in  re- 
sponse to  Maurice's  protest  to  the  officer  who 
was  in  charge  when  they  were  out  on  so-called 
exercise,  he  was  allowed  to  take  the  poor  fellow 
across  to  the  hospital. 

Two  English  doctors  were  there,  men  who 
were  looking  worn-out  with  incessant  work 
which  was  enough  to  keep  ten  times  their  num- 
ber busy  night  and  day. 


205 

''Is  that  Millard!"  one  of  the  doctors  asked, 
as  Maurice  was  turning  away. 

He  swung  round  when  he  heard  his  name 
mentioned. 

"Is  it  Carnforth?"  he  exclaimed,  for  he 
knew  the  man.  He  had  seen  him  many  a 
time  among  the  Red  Cross  vans  at  the  front, 
and  at  the  base,  and  stalking  dlown  the 
wretched-looking  ward  to  meet  each  other,  the 
two  shook  hands,  like  old  friends  meeting  in 
a  strange  land,  and  glad  to  see  a  familiar 
face. 

"How  came  you  here,  Millard?"  Carnforth 
asked. 

"We  got  into  a  German  trench,  but  were  cut 
off — a  lot  of  us ;  and  here  I  am.  ' ' 

"In  the  most  horrible  of  all  the  prisoners' 
camps  in  Germany!  There's  typhus  here. 
They  have  weeded  out  all  of  our  physicians, 
making  them  come  to  the  hospitals  to  help  us, 
and  the  Germans  have  left  us  to  it,"  said  Carn- 
forth. "We  are  supposed  to  cure  the  poor 
fellows  without  supplies,  without  any  of  the 
necessaries  for  sick  men,  with  barely  food 
enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  and  we 
are  at  our  wits'  end  to  know  what  to  do.  We 
think  it  a  miracle  if  we  discharge  one  poor 
fellow  as  convalescent,  and  send  him  back  to 
the  hut  to  undergo  his  course  of  misery  there; 
but  for  every  one  that  is  said  to  be  cured, 
thirty  die!  Look  at  this." 

Carnforth  went  to  a  table,  and  pulling  a 
drawer  open,  he  showed  Maurice  a  list  of  the 


206  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

men  who  had  died  that  week — a  list  which  hor- 
rified him. 

"We're  short-handed.  That's  one  of  the 
bad  things  out  of  the  many,"  Carnforth  said, 
thrusting  the  drawer  in  again.  "They  have 
told  us  to  send  round  for  volunteers,  and  a 
few  have  come,  but  we  could  do  with  ten  times 
as  many,  for  the  sickness  is  terrible." 

Maurice  looked  down  the  ward,  and  saw  two 
or  three  tired-looking  nurses,  Carnforth,  and 
another  doctor. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  the  small 
handful  to  deal  with  all  this?"  he  asked. 

"We  have  it  for  sixteen  hours  at  a  stretch, 
and  eight  hours  for  sleep  and  recreation,"  was 
the  discouraging  answer. 

"Will  you  take  me  on  for  what  I'm  worth!" 
Maurice  exclaimed,  after  one  more  look  along 
the  ward. 

Carnforth 's  eyes  brightened. 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Millardl" 

"Yes.  If  I  get  leave,  I'm  ready.  I'll  have 
a  wash,  if  you  don't  mind,  and  start  at  once, 
if  I  am  allowed  to  stay." 

"That's  easily  arranged,  old  man.  I'll  get 
on  the  telephone  and  speak  to  the  Commandant, 
because  what  he  says  is  law  here,  and  nobody 
dares  to  interfere  with  him." 

Carnforth  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  ward, 
and  Maurice  heard  the  bell  ring;  then  Carn- 
forth's  voice.  When  he  had  rung  off,  the  doc- 
tor walked  down  the  ward  quickly,  his  face 
expressing  his  satisfaction. 


THE  PRISONERS5  HOSPITAL          207 

1  'It's  all  right.  And  wonder  of  wonders! 
I  am  to  have  some  medicine  when  it  comes  to 
camp;  by  Christmas  Day,  probably,"  he  added 
discontentedly.  "Now  let  me  get  you  that 
wash,  and  some  food,  such  as  I  can  obtain  for 
you,  and  then  I'll  set  you  going.  You  can't 
tell  how  glad  I  am  to  have  you." 


XVI 
A  CHOICE  FOE  LIFE  OB  DEATH 

A  MONG  the  patients  in  the  fever-stricken 
A\  hospital  was  a  sergeant  of  the  Flying 
Corps,  whom  Maurice  had  known  well 
when  they  were  at  the  base.  He  was  esteemed 
one  of  the  best  flyers  in  the  English  camp,  and 
his  flights  had  been  among  the  most  daring. 
Immelmann,  said  to  be  the  finest  of  the  German 
aviators,  had  more  than  once  turned  away  in 
flight  with  a  crippled  machine,  and  even  his 
record  did  not  come  up  to  Quinton's,  which 
accounted  for  a  dozen  enemy  aeroplanes. 

He  had  started  on  one  raid,  and  since  he 
never  came  back,  he  was  returned  as  "miss- 
ing," and  it  was  generally  supposed  that  his 
machine  had  been  shot  down. 

Throughout  all  those  hospital  days,  when  the 
fever  raged,  and  the  sick  prisoners  were  dying 
daily  by  scores,  and  doctors  and  nurses  alike 
fell  victims  to  the  epidemic,  none  of  the  Ger- 
mans came  near.  The  Commandant's  duty  was 
to  go  through  the  camp  and  visit  every  hut  and 
hospital  ward,  but  as  for  the  latter  he  never 
entered.  The  fever  was  so  terrible  that  he 
contented  himself  with  speaking  on  the  tele- 
phone. The  food  was  brought  up  to  the  hospi- 

208 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      209 

tal  by  the  prisoners,  for  no  German  would 
approach  the  place. 

"They  are  as  cowardly  as  they  are  brutal," 
Carnf  orth  exclaimed  one  morning,  when  he  had 
telephoned,  asking  the  Commandant  to  come 
and  see  for  himself  how  terrible  were  the  rav- 
ages of  the  disease,  and  thus  take  steps  to  save 
the  lives  of  the  poor  fellows  whose  misfortune 
it  had  been  to  be  sent  to  this  death-stricken 
camp.  ' '  Not  one  among  them  all  has  the  pluck 
to  face  the  fever,  while  the  men  are  dying  off 
like  flies." 

The  telephone-bell  rang  while  he  was  saying 
this,  and  the  message  came  through. 

"Have  you  an  aviator  on  the  convalescent 
list  named  Quinton?"  the  Commandant  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Send  him  to  me  at  once." 

"You  must  send  a  soldier  up  for  him,"  said 
Carnforth,  smiling  sarcastically  at  the  sug- 
gestion. "Quinton  is  better — a  lot  better — but 
not  strong  enough  yet  to  go  without  having  a 
man's  arm  to  lean  on." 

"I  can't  risk  any  of  my  men  up  there,"  the 
answer  came.  "Send  one  of  your  men  with 
him;  someone  who  is  quite  free  from  fever; 
and  send  him  at  once." 

The  bell  rang  off,  and  Carnforth  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"The  Commandant — the  bravest  of  the 
brave!  they  call  him — won't  risk  his  precious 
health  and  come  up  here  to  see  how  Quinton 
is,  so  I  have  to  send  him  down,  and  someone 


210  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

free  of  fever  must  take  him.  Will  you  go, 
Millard?" 

Maurice  jumped  at  the  chance,  for  he  had 
been  tied  up  day  and  night  for  weeks,  and  he 
longed  to  get  away  to  breathe  freely,  if  only 
for  an  hour. 

"I'll  go." 

Before  long  Quinton  was  ready,  so  far  as  it 
was  possible  to  make  him  so. 

"What  does  it  mean,  Quinton?"  Maurice 
asked,  as  the  sick  man  walked  with  him,  leaning 
on  his  arm,  and  going  slowly. 

"I  have  been  a  gentleman  at  ease  long 
enough,  so  I  am  going  to  the  workshop  to  earn 
my  living,  making  shells,  perhaps,  to  shoot 
down  those  cowardly  Englishmen,  or  to  help 
to  make  Zeppelins  to  damage  the  fortresses  of 
England,"  said  Quinton,  laughing.  "You  will 
see  that  before  a  fortnight  is  gone  the  British 
workman  will  turn  out  such  superior  work  that 
they  will  raise  my  wages,  and  give  me  a  brand- 
new  uniform,  and  double  my  rations,  and  give 
me  a  feather-bed  to  lie  on  at  night." 

Weak  though  he  was,  the  idea  tickled  him 
immensely,  and  Maurice  joined  him  in  his 
mirth. 

The  Commandant  was  in  the  workshop  where 
the  German  engineers  were  working  at  top 
speed,  making  all  manner  of  things  required 
in  fitting  up  flying-machines  of  various  types. 
He  looked  at  the  two  Englishmen  as  they  en- 
tered— Maurice,  fagged  with  his  incessant  work 
in  the  hospital,  but  very  fit  in  spite  of  the 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      211 

work  and  the  shortage  of  nourishing  food.  But 
Quinton  was  by  no  means  robust  yet. 

"I  shall  have  to  give  you  something  easy  to 
start  with,"  he  said,  turning  to  Quinton. 
"Move  along  the  benches  and  see  what  sort 
of  work  suits  you  best  until  you  are  stronger." 

It  sounded  considerate,  but  there  was  no 
kindness  behind  it.  The  Commandant  wanted 
work  done,  but  if  he  put  this  man,  who  was 
known  to  be  a  practical  engineer,  to  hard  work 
at  once,  he  knew  he  would  have  a  dead  man  on 
his  hands. 

Leaning  on  Maurice's  arm,  Quinton  looked 
at  the  various  benches,  the  Commandant  at  his 
side. 

" Until  I  am  stronger  I  can  work  at  this," 
said  Quinton,  stopping  at  one  of  the  benches. 

"Then  take  that.  But  by  the  look  of  you, 
you  will  want  help ;  but  will  you  need  a  skilled 
workman?" 

' '  No,  but  I  shall  want  one  with  some  brains, ' ' 
said  Quinton,  who  sat  on  the  stool,  glad  to  rest 
after  the  journey,  which  was  a  long  one  for  a 
sick  man.  "Still,  it  is  scarcely  a  task  to  be 
set  for  an  Englishman,  to  make  military  aero- 
planes to  fight  my  own  countrymen,"  Quinton 
exclaimed  boldly,  looking  into  the  Command- 
ant's face  without  flinching. 

1  *  If  you  talk  like  that  I  will  have  you  marched 
out  of  this  and  shot,"  cried  the  German,  whose 
eyes  blazed  with  anger. 

Quinton  shrugged  his  shoulders — a  habit 
with  him  when  perplexed — but  he  said  nothing. 


212  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

He  was  anxious  to  go  home,  when  the  war  was 
over,  to  his  wife  and  little  ones.  He  knew  that 
there  was  no  choice  for  him,  and  that  it  was 
the  German  way  to  ignore  all  honor  and  Inter- 
national Law,  but  to  do  whatever  fell  in  with 
their  own  plans. 

"You  want  someone  to  help  you,  so  take  this 
young  fellow,  and  make  use  of  him." 

"I  am  busy  in  the  hospital,  and  they  are 
already  short-handed,"  exclaimed  Maurice, 
thinking  of  the  consequences  if  he  did  not  re- 
turn to  help  Carnforth. 

"What  is  that  to  me?"  cried  the  Command- 
ant, in  angry  tones.  "Who  are  you,  that  you 
should  tell  me  what  you  think  you  ought  to  do, 
or  ought  not?  You  will  help  this  man." 

The  Commandant  called  to  the  officer  who 
was  in  charge  of  the  workshops,  and  what  he 
said  to  him  aroused  the  spirit  of  Quinton  and 
Maurice. 

*  *  If  either  of  these  two  demur  over  anything, 
telephone  to  me,  and  I  will  give  orders  as  to 
what  you  are  to  do  with  them."  Then  he 
swung  round  to  Maurice  and  his  companion. 
"Look  out  of  the  window.  Do  you  see  that 
tree?" 

They  nodded,  wondering  what  was  to  fol- 
low. 

"The  man  who  was  working  at  this  bench  yes- 
terday was  one  of  your  countrymen.  He  dis- 
obeyed orders,  and  made  himself  awkward,  and 
at  six  o  'clock  this  morning  he  was  hung  on  that 
tree.  See  that  you  are  not  served  the  same," 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      213 

he  added;  and  turning  on  his  heel  he  walked 
away. 

The  work  began  at  once,  Maurice,  for  Quin- 
ton's  sake,  aiding  him  in  every  possible  way; 
but  in  a  few  days  the  sick  man,  with  more  fresh 
air  to  breathe,  grew  stronger.  The  walk  to 
and  from  their  miserable  quarters — a  wretched 
little  hut  just  big  enough  for  two — night  and 
morning  revived  him,  and  where  at  first  he  had 
to  lean  on  Maurice's  arm,  and  sit  on  the  work- 
man's stool  most  of  the  day,  he  was  now  able 
to  walk  alone,  and  stand  more  and  more  to 
his  work. 

The  longing  for  liberty  grew  on  them  both, 
the  more  so,  perhaps,  because  they  were  not 
permitted  to  go  to  that  part  of  the  camp  where 
the  other  prisoners  of  war  were  stationed. 

"If  a  chance  came  for  escape  I'd  take  it, 
whatever  the  risks  were,"  said  Quinton  one 
evening,  after  a  trying  day,  when  the  German 
workmen  had  been  unusually  exasperating, 
telling  of  a  terrible  defeat  of  the  British  fleet, 
the  death  of  Sir  John  Jellicoe,  the  sinking  of 
thirty  or  forty  warships,  the  loss  of  thousands 
of  British  blue-jackets,  and  the  bombardment 
of  four  or  five  important  towns  on  the  Eastern 
coast.  With  it  came  the  news  that  the  Ger- 
mans had  broken  through  to  Calais,  and  that 
General  Joffre  had  not  only  been  defeated,  but 
was  a  prisoner,  now  on  his  way  to  Berlin. 

"Do  you  believe  it,  Quinton?"  Maurice  asked 
anxiously. 

Quinton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


214.  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

" We've  heard  similar  tales  before,  haven't 
we?  I  am  disposed  to  call  them  German  lies; 
but  true  or  not  true,  the  thing  on  my  mind  is 
this — to  get  out  of  this  horrible  place,  if  pos- 
sible, and  try  to  find  our  way  to  the  English 
camp,  or  the  French,  whichever  offers  best." 

"We  haven't  a  ghost  of  a  chance,  Quinton," 
said  Maurice,  who  was  walking  at  his  side,  his 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  and  his  head  hang- 
ing down,  his  whole  appearance  one  of  de- 
jection. He  was  thinking  of  Marjorie.  If  this 
was  his  experience — starvation,  torment  of  the 
meanest  sort,  lies,  as  he  hoped  they  were, 
served  out  every  week,  with  no  way  of  proving 
them  such,  what  might  not  his  sister  be  endur- 
ing, if  by  any  chance  she  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  these  fiends? 

That  night,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  sleep, 
they  were  called  away  from  the  hut  to  do  some 
special  work,  and  they  were  busy  the  whole 
night  through.  In  the  workshop  was  a  German 
who  had  been  surly  beyond  words  from  the 
moment  they  had  come  down  from  the  hospital, 
and  Grobner  never  failed  to  make  things  awk- 
ward if  the  opportunity  offered. 

Grobner  was  working  alone  in  the  shop  when 
they  arrived  that  night,  busy  at  the  lathe,  as 
far  away  from  Maurice  and  Quinton  as  he  could 
get,  because  the  presence  of  two  Englishmen 
was  hateful  to  him. 

The  work  which  Maurice  helped  Quinton  with 
had  in  it  a  sheet  of  polished  steel,  so  clear  and 
bright  as  to  reflect  like  a  mirror.  Everything 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      215 

was  silent  save  the  occasional  sound  of  the 
tools,  and  the  scream  of  Grobner 's  lathe. 

Maurice  nudged  Quinton,  who  looked  round 
sharply. 

"Look  at  that,"  said  Maurice,  going  on  with 
his  work,  but  pointing  to  the  steel  mirror,  and 
Quinton,  looking,  whistled. 

A  man  was  creeping  among  the  benches  be- 
hind them,  compelled  at  times  to  come  away 
from  something  which  served  to  hide  him;  but 
the  fact  that  he  was  bending  low  and  going 
stealthily  was  sufficient  to  assure  those  who 
were  watching  the  polished  steel  plate  that 
something  wrong  was  meditated,  especially 
when  they  saw  a  dagger  in  the  fellow's  hand. 

"He  means  murder,"  Quinton  whispered, 
dropping  his  tool,  "and  it's  Grobner  he  has  in 
mind.  I'm  going  to  put  a  stop  to  that." 

He  turned  away  carelessly,  and  going  behind 
the  benches,  catching  up  a  sharp  tool  as  he 
moved,  he  got  among  another  row  of  benches, 
where  he  could  move  unseen;  then  he  went  for- 
ward swiftly,  and  came  to  where  he  could  see 
the  creeping  man.  His  impulse  was  to  give 
the  alarm,  but  he  feared  he  might  be  mistaken, 
and  would  make  an  enemy  without  winning  any 
goodwill  from  Grobner.  He  heard  a  move- 
ment behind  him,  and  turning  his  head  he  saw 
Maurice  at  his  heels,  coming  as  silently  as 
possible. 

The  man  they  were  watching  was  pausing, 
but  out  of  their  sight.  They  knew  that  he  was 
standing  still,  or  he  would  have  appeared  be- 


216  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

yond  a  stack  of  steel  plates  and  pass  an  open 
space,  the  length  of  one  of  the  benches. 

1  'Why  not  shout  to  Grobner?"  whispered 
Maurice. 

"And  perhaps  be  called  a  fool  for  our 
pains." 

Suddenly  the  man  came  away  from  his  shel- 
ter with  a  swift  stride,  and  the  weapon  he  had 
been  carrying  gleamed  in  the  electric  light  at 
Grobner 's  bench.  Six  yards  more,  half  a  dozen 
steps,  quickly  taken  at  the  pace  he  was  going, 
would  bring  the  fellow  to  Grobner,  who  was 
working  the  lathe  unconscious  of  his  danger. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"Grobner,  beware!"  shouted  Quinton;  and 
with  that  he  hurled  the  tool  he  had  been  carry- 
ing against  the  would-be  murderer.  It  crashed 
against  his  left  arm,  which  fell  helpless,  and 
he  yelled  with  pain;  but  even  then  he  would 
not  be  turned  from  his  purpose.  He  leaped 
towards  Grobner,  who  had  turned  at  Quinton 's 
call,  and  saw  his  danger.  He  flung  the  tool  he 
was  using  at  the  fellow's  face;  a  moment  more 
and  the  two  men  grappled  with  each  other,  and 
in  the  fierceness  of  the  struggle,  fell  to  the 
ground.  Grobner 's  assailant,  who  was  upper- 
most and  who  had  dropped  his  weapon,  sought 
to  get  at  the  knife,  but  Maurice  and  Quinton 
ran  forward.  Maurice  thought  to  snatch  at 
the  weapon,  but  was  too  late,  for  the  man's 
fingers  closed  over  it,  and  lifted  it,  ready  to 
strike. 

Foiled  in  this,  Maurice  clutched  at  the  hand 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      217 

which  held  the  dagger,  but  the  man's  grip  on 
the  weapon  was  such,  and  he  was  so  powerful, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  Maurice  to  wrench 
it  away.  The  man  tore  his  hand  away  and 
threw  it  back  in  readiness  to  strike.  Quinton 
managed  to  grip  the  wrist,  there  was  a  cry  of 
pain,  the  weapon  was  wrested  away,  and  the 
man's  hand  dropped,  helpless.  He  was  flung 
on  his  back,  bruised  by  his  fall,  and  Grobner 
was  able  to  get  on  his  feet  again. 

1  'We '11  bind  him  hand  and  foot,"  said  Grob- 
ner, reaching  for  a  rope,  while  Quinton  and 
Maurice  held  the  struggling  man  on  the  floor; 
and  before  long  he  lay  helpless. 

"That's  the  second  time,  but  it  will  be  the 
last,"  said  Grobner.  "If  you  will  watch  I  will 
go  for  the  guard,  who  will  take  him  to  the 
Commandant. ' ' 

The  German  stalked  out  of  the  workshop,  and 
before  long  the  man  was  carried  away.  Mau- 
rice and  Quinton  had  gone  back  to  their  bench, 
but  when  they  were  alone  with  Grobner,  the 
man  came  to  them. 

"You  are  Englishmen,  and  I  ought  to  hate 
you.  It's  a  part  of  our  creed  to  do  so  with 
everyone  who  belongs  to  your  country,"  he 
said,  standing  at  the  bench.  "But  I  owe  my 
life  to  you." 

There  was  a  strange  look  on  the  German's 
face,  half  anger,  half  annoyance. 

"I  ought  to  be  thankful  for  what  you  have 
done  for  me,"  he  said  ungraciously;  "and  so 
I  am.  But  I  could  have  wished  it  had  been 


218  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

one  of  my  own  countrymen  who  had  served 
me,  rather  than  any  Englishman,  for  I  hate 
your  race  from  my  very  soul.  And  now  I  am 
under  obligation!"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  voice 
quivered  with  resentment.  He  said  no  more, 
but  swung  round  on  his  heel  and  went  back 
to  his  lathe. 

"The  surly,  ungracious  beast!"  said  Quin- 
ton,  between  his  teeth,  but  afraid  to  speak 
aloud,  lest  he  should  bring  down  further  re- 
sentment on  Maurice  and  himself. 

The  story  spread  as  to  what  they  had  done, 
but  it  made  no  difference  in  the  attitude  of  the 
men  in  the  workshop.  They  resented  it,  rather 
than  approved,  and  as  for  Grobner,  he  was  no 
more  amiable  than  before.  If  anything  he  was 
more  surly.  He  could  not  do  much  to  make 
their  lot  any  happier,  but  he  might  have  done 
something,  and  that  little  he  did  not  do.  His 
attitude  made  Maurice  and  Quinton  half  wish 
they  had  left  him  to  fight  out  his  quarrel,  but 
they  put  away  the  thought  with  something  like 
horror  as  being  unworthy  of  an  Englishman. 

There  was  a  surprise  in  store  one  early 
morning  for  them  both.  The  door  of  their  hut 
was  flung  wide  open,  and  Grobner  entered, 
gruff  as  ever,  and  carrying  a  bundle  under  his 
arm.  He  looked  about  eagerly  at  the  door 
when  he  had  tossed  the  bundle  on  the  floor. 

"I  have  to  take  your  photographs  in  German 
clothes,"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  had  closed 
the  door.  "Throw  off  those  things  of  yours 
quickly  and  get  into  these.  Be  quick!  I  have 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      219 

to  be  at  the  workshop  in  half  an  hour  to  see 
the  Commandant." 

Wondering  what  this  meant,  they  both 
obeyed,  looking  askance  at  the  man  from  time 
to  time,  thinking  how  deep  was  the  German 
hate  for  England  and  all  belonging  to  it.  Then 
they  stood,  and  as  the  morning  light  poured  in 
through  the  window,  they  stared  at  each  other, 
thinking  how  un-English  they  looked  in  these 
German  peasant  suits. 

Grobner  called  them  to  sharp  attention. 

"Stand  there,  Millard,"  he  exclaimed,  point- 
ing to  a  spot  where  the  light  made  it  possible 
for  Maurice  to  be  photographed.  Before  many 
moments  had  gone  the  snap  of  the  kodak-shut- 
ter was  heard. 

"I'll  take  another,"  said  Grobner.  Then 
came  the  second  snap.  "Quinton,  take  your 
stand  in  the  same  place." 

Quinton  went  through  the  ordeal,  and  Grob- 
ner turned  to  go. 

"Get  out  of  those  things  and  hide  them.  I 
don't  want  them  any  more.  Some  day  they 
may  be  useful  to  you,  but  not  yet,  for  weeks 
to  come,  or  you  will  be  shot  down." 

His  face  and  voice  softened,  but  barely  per- 
ceptibly, and  turning,  he  went  to  the  door, 
looked  out  cautiously,  and  walked  away. 

"That's  queer,"  muttered  Quinton.  "Do  you 
think  he  really  meant  that  we  could  use  these 
things  some  day?"  he  asked,  in  an  incredulous 
tone. 

"I    should    say    so,"    exclaimed    Maurice. 


220  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Perhaps  he  thinks  he  might  serve  us  a  good 
turn,  and  get  rid  of  that  obligation  which  so 
annoyed  him.  We'll  hope  he  does,  for  it  would 
be  splendid  if  we  could  get  away  from  this 
horrible  place." 

Maurice  pointed  through  the  grimy  window 
to  the  distant  hospital,  out  of  whose  door  a 
rough  wooden  coffin  was  being  carried,  showing 
that  one  more  poor  sufferer  had  gone  to  rest, 
and  would  never  go  back  to  England. 

They  looked  round  for  a  hiding-place,  for 
Grobner's  suggestion  of  escape  put  hope  into 
them.  They  could  never  expect  to  get  away 
in  their  soiled  and  torn  khaki  suits,  but  they 
might  contrive  to  do  so  dressed  as  Germans, 
and  especially  since  it  was  their  good  fortune 
to  speak  the  language  of  the  country  well. 

"What  about  hiding  these  things?"  Quinton 
asked,  when  they  had  changed  into  their  old 
khaki  quickly,  startled  into  action  when  they 
saw  a  dozen  German  soldiers  marching  from 
point  to  point  to  relieve  the  sentries.  Suppose 
in  some  unfortunate  moment  the  officer  made 
up  his  mind  to  halt  at  the  hut  and  look  in? 
For  in  the  ordinary  way  the  relief  would  pass 
the  door.  Before  long  they  were  dressed  as 
they  were  wont  to  be,  ready  for  the  clanging 
of  the  bell  to  call  them  to  the  workshop.  They 
rolled  up  the  German  suits  and  hid  them  in 
their  blankets,  which,  as  usual,  they  laid  on 
the  mattresses. 

By  this  time  the  tramp  of  the  soldiers  was 
clearly  heard,  and  they  went  hot  at  the  thought 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH 

that  the  officer  should -call  a  halt,  come  in,  and 
search  the  place.  It  was  a  possible  thing,  for 
he  had  done  so  once  before,  and  why  not  now! 
When  they  glanced  at  the  rugs  it  seemed  to 
them  that  they  were  so  displaced  as  to  make 
it  certain  that  something  was  there,  making  the 
bundles  bigger  than  they  ordinarily  were. 

It  happened  as  they  feared.  The  officer 
called  a  halt,  and  throwing  open  the  door  with- 
out ceremony,  stepped  in  and  stared  about  him. 

"Why  are  you  not  at  your  work?"  he  asked 
roughly. 

"We  are  waiting  for  the  bell,"  said  Maurice. 

The  soldier  looked  at  his  wrist-watch. 

"It  only  lacks  ten  minutes.  Get  out  of  this, 
and  go!" 

He  waited  for  them  to  pass,  and  because  it 
.was  useless  to  remonstrate  they  crossed  the 
open  space  with  unwilling  steps. 

"Suppose  they  rummage  about  in  the  hut 
and  find  those  things,  Quinton,  while  we  are 
at  work?"  said  Maurice  anxiously.  "We  shall 
be  punished." 

"I  pray  it  may  not  come  to  that,"  Quinton 
answered  quietly.  It  was  useless  to  put  on  a 
brave  face,  to  pretend  a  confidence  he  did  not 
feel.  He  was  afraid  of  the  worst;  afraid,  too, 
that  this  was  a  treacherous  pretense  to  grati- 
tude on  Grobner's  part,  and  that  he  had  told 
the  officer  that  clothes  were  hidden  away  in  the 
hope  of  escape.  The  consequence  might  be 
prison,  which  was  said  to  be  a  terrible  thing; 
it  was  just  as  likely  that  they  would  be  shot. 


222  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

The  day  seemed  a  never-ending  one,  and  their 
minds  were  on  the  hut  without  a  moment's 
interval.  Whenever  there  was  any  unwonted 
sound  they  half  expected  to  see  some  soldiers 
enter  to  march  them  off  to  the  Commandant. 

When  the  hour  came  to  put  down  tools  and 
go  back  to  the  hut  for  the  night,  an  order  came 
that  Quinton  and  Maurice  were  to  give  two 
hours'  extra  help  to  some  engineers  at  the 
lathes.  They  were  already  sick  with  anxiety. 
Were  they  found  out?  And  was  this  delay 
meant  to  add  to  their  mental  torture? 

They  put  as  brave  a  face  on  it  as  possible, 
and  at  last  the  work  was  done.  They  returned 
to  the  hut,  with  slower  steps  than  usual,  not 
to  awaken  suspicion,  whereas  they  wanted  to 
race  as  hard  as  their  feet  would  carry  them. 
Quinton 's  hand  trembled  when  he  lifted  the 
latch,  and  each  expected  to  see  that  the  rugs 
were  unrolled  and  their  secret  discovered. 

" Thank  God!"  they  both  exclaimed,  in  the 
same  breath,  when  they  entered  and  saw  every- 
thing as  it  had  been  left;  but  had  they  been 
tampered  with  in  spite  of  appearances?  No, 
for  as  they  unrolled  each  bundle  they  saw  the 
German  clothes  exactly  as  they  had  left  them. 

4 'This  is  something  for  which  to  thank  God," 
said  Quinton  reverently.  "Millard,  I  would 
not  go  through  another  day  like  this  for  a  lot 
of  money.  It  has  worn  me  out." 

He  threw  himself  on  the  mattress  like  a  tired 
man,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

" Quinton,"  said  Maurice  presently,  "don't 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      223 

you  think  we  ought  to  think  of  some  place  in 
which  to  hide  these  things'?  We  don't  want 
another  anxious  day." 

"I've  thought  it  out,"  Quinton  replied, 
springing  to  his  feet,  and  telling  at  once  what 
he  suggested. 

The  hut  floor  had  a  hole  in  it,  where  once  a 
great  caldron  had  been  sunk  for  some  purpose. 
The  hole  had  been  filled,  but  the  earth  was  dry 
and  crumbly,  so  that  it  could  be  scooped  out 
with  their  hands.  They  lost  no  time,  but 
worked  frantically  to  get  the  hole  empty  before 
anyone  should  come  to  the  hut ;  then  the  clothes 
were  dropped  in.  A  German  newspaper  which 
had  been  given  to  them  telling  them  of  disas- 
trous British  reverses  and  great  German  vic- 
tories, served  as  a  cover  to  the  bundle,  and 
over  this  the  earth  was  pushed  in  and  lightly 
beaten  down. 

They  looked  at  it  in  the  early  morning  light, 
drew  their  mattresses  over  the  hole,  as  before, 
and  sat  down  to  their  miserable  six  o'clock 
breakfast  of  coffee  made  with  ground  burnt 
acorns,  and  a  chunk  of  bread  made  of  bran  and 
potatoes. 

"I  pray  that  the  chance  may  come  soon," 
Maurice  said  quietly,  lifting  the  mattress  to 
make  sure  that  there  were  no  signs  of  disturb- 
ance on  the  floor. 

"I  say  'Amen,'1'  Quinton  responded  seri- 
ously. "But  it  will  come.  I've  prayed  about 
it,  Millard,  and  what  does  it  say  in  that  Book 
your  mother  gave  you!  Everything  to  make 


AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

one  believe  that  a  downright  earnest  prayer 
doesn't  fall  flat  on  God's  ears." 

They  went  to  their  work,  and  did  it  honestly, 
but  their  thoughts  were  not  altogether  free 
from  anxiety,  because  of  their  secret.  When 
the  day's  task  ended,  and  only  Grobner  and 
they  were  left  in  the  shop,  as  often  was  the 
case,  he  being  the  foreman,  the  German  came 
to  their  bench  and  stood  between  them,  bending 
down  as  if  examining  their  work. 

1  'Where  did  you  hide  those  things?"  he 
asked,  looking  at  Maurice. 

"In  the  floor  under  our  mattresses." 

"Put  this  with  them,  and  take  care  of  it.  It 
may  be  of  service  to  you  both." 

He  said  it  so  ungraciously  that  they  resented 
the  tone,  and  it  was  only  by  an  effort  that  the 
hot  words  were  kept  back.  A  large-sized  en- 
velope was  lying  on  the  counter,  placed  there 
stealthily  by  Grobner,  who  had  drawn  it  out 
of  his  vest  when  he  had  looked  up  and  down 
the  shop  to  assure  himself  that  they  were  alone, 
and  therefore  no  one  could  see  what  he  was 
doing.  Then  he  walked  away. 

They  looked  after  him  in  amazement.  He 
was  as  surly  as  he  had  ever  been,  not  in 
pretense  but  reality.  He  was  altogether  a 
puzzle. 

Quinton  picked  up  the  envelope,  opened  his 
jacket  and  thrust  it  inside,  out  of  sight. 

Tired  out  with  the  day's  toil,  and  feeling  the 
extra  strain  because  of  their  scanty  and  un- 
nourishing  food,  as  well  as  the  extra  tasks, 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      225 

which  became  harder  as  the  days  went  on,  they 
walked  slowly  to  the  hut. 

Was  this  so  much  mockery?  Was  Grobner, 
in  his  inveterate  hate  for  England  and  for  all 
Englishmen,  playing  with  them? 

It  was  still  light  when  they  stepped  into  the 
hut.  They  closed  the  door  before  they  exam- 
ined the  contents  of  the  envelope,  but  as  they 
drew  it  out  they  stared  in  blank  amazement. 
There  were  two  separate  documents,  each  a 
passport  for  a  German,  deputed  to  move  from 
military  factory  to  military  factory,  according 
to  orders.  On  one  of  them  was  pasted  a  por- 
trait of  Maurice  in  his  German  clothes,  identi- 
fying him  as  a  workman  named  Muller ;  on  the 
other  was  Quinton's  portrait,  and  his  name 
was  marked  down  Goert. 

"  'Tis  the  queerest  thing  I  ever  knew,"  Quin- 
ton  exclaimed,  while  they  stood  at  the  window 
with  the  papers  in  their  hands,  and  stared  at 
them.  "That  fellow  hates  us  like  poison,  and 
he  hates  to  think  that  he  is  under  some  sort 
of  obligation  which  he  must  repay;  and  now 
he  is  giving  us  the  chance  to  get  away." 

"You  will  take  it,  of  course?"  Maurice  asked. 

"Rather!  There  will  be  no  obligation  on 
either  side,  and  I  am  longing  to  get  back  and 
have  a  look  at  the  dear  ones  at  home,"  said 
Quinton,  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  and  he 
brushed  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  Maurice 
could  not  see  him  very  well,  for  his  own  eyes 
were  blurred,  and  he  was  thinking  of  the  little 
mother  and  his  father.  If  only  he  could  see 


226  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

them !  If  only,  too,  he  could  find  out  what  had 
become  of  Marjorie! 

Each  placed  his  passport  safely  in  his  bosom, 
and  threw  himself  on  his  mattress  to  sleep. 
They  went  to  their  work  in  the  morning,  full 
of  hope,  and  while  the  day's  task  was  as  exact- 
ing as  ever,  it  did  not  seem  quite  so  hard,  be- 
cause of  that  dream  of  escape. 

Towards  the  hour  when  it  was  time  for  work 
to  cease  the  Commandant  came  into  the  work- 
shop and  walked  straight  to  the  bench  where 
they  were  working.  His  words  were  abrupt 
and  startling,  and  so  loudly  spoken  that  the 
Germans  in  the  shop  could  hear  everything  that 
was  said. 

"I  am  going  to  change  your  work.  I  want 
a  military  biplane  made  after  the  English  pat- 
tern, so  accurate  in  all  its  details  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  it  to  be  mistaken  for  a  Ger- 
man if  it  passed  over  the  English  lines." 

Quinton  and  Maurice  dropped  their  tools,  and 
looked  at  the  Commandant  with  a  question  in 
each  face. 

"Need  I  make  any  further  explanation?" 
asked  the  officer,  gazing  at  them  both,  and  the 
look  he  gave  them  was  disquieting. 

' '  It  would  be  well  for  you  to  be  explicit,  sir, ' ' 
Quinton  replied  slowly,  but  with  no  sign  of 
flinching.  Every  eye  in  the  place  was  on  him, 
and  on  Maurice,  and  work  in  the  shop  had 
ceased.  What  was  going  to  happen?  For  the 
Germans  knew  what  manner  of  man  the  Com- 
mandant was. 


A  CHOICE  FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH      227 

"You  must  be  dull  of  comprehension  if  you 
want  me  to  say  more,"  the  officer  retorted 
sharply.  "I  want  the  machine  made  after  an 
exact  English  pattern,  and  you  will  have  every- 
thing you  require  to  hand,  and  every  possible 
help  in  getting  the  work  well  done." 

There  was  silence  in  the  workshop,  for  no 
one  seemed  to  stir.  All  were  listening  for  the 
answer  of  the  Englishmen. 

"Can't  you  speak?"  cried  the  Commandant 
sharply. 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  want  us  to  make 
this  machine?"  asked  Quinton. 

"Who  else  would  do  it?"  was  the  question; 
and  the  German  officer's  voice  vibrated  with 
anger,  for  he  anticipated  the  response  that  was 
coming  when  he  saw  the  faces  of  the  two  Eng- 
lish prisoners.  "You  and  Millard  are  to  make 
it!" 

This  time  the  silence  was  more  tense  than 
before.  Quinton  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  bench,  and  Maurice 's  hand  rested  on  the 
lathe.  Quinton  broke  the  silence. 

"What  Lieutenant  Millard  may  choose  to 
say  I  cannot  tell;  but  speaking  for  myself, 
I  say  deliberately  that  I  will  not  work  to 
my  countrymen's  harm.  I  will  not  betray 
them." 

"Nor  will  I,"  said  Maurice,  drawing  nearer 
to  Quinton,  as  if  to  emphasize  his  determina- 
tion. 

The  Commandant  stared  at  them,  his  breath 
coming  and  going  quickly  with  suppressed  fury. 


228  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

His  hand  went  to  his  revolver,  as  if  he  would 
shoot  them  where  they  stood. 

"You  do  not  seem  to  know  that  the  penalty 
of  refusal  is  death,"  he  said,  struggling  to  con- 
trol himself. 

"I  do  not  want  to  die,  and  I  am  sure  that 
Lieutenant  Millard  does  not,"  said  Quinton, 
turning  to  look  Maurice  in  the  face.  He  saw 
that  he  could  speak  for  him  as  well  as  for  him- 
self, although  the  young  soldier's  face  was 
white  and  strained  at  this  sudden  and  unex- 
pected call  for  a  great  decision.  "But  if  it 
must  be  death  it  must  be.  Neither  of  us  will 
buy  our  lives  at  such  a  price." 

Suppressed  oaths  were  heard  among  the 
workmen,  and  for  a  time  the  Commandant 
stared  at  them.  He  had  not  expected  such  a 
reply,  especially  from  this  boy  lieutenant,  as 
he  chose  to  call  him.  His  words,  when  they 
came,  surprised  everyone. 

"I  will  put  the  question  to  you  in  the  morn- 
ing. Go  to  your  hut  and  think  things  over. 
You  are  to  remain  there  until  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  I  shall  be  free  to  attend  to  you.  I 
will  put  the  question,  and  on  your  answer  your 
lives  depend.  Say  'no,'  and  you  will  both  be 
shot !  You  may  go ! " 

The  Commandant  waited  to  see  them  go  out 
of  the  workshop.  Their  meager  food  allow- 
ance was  on  the  bench,  and  they  took  it  with 
them,  and  walking  slowly  to  the  hut,  they  en- 
tered it  and  shut  the  door. 


xvn 

THE  GERMAN  GUIDE 

WHEN  the  door  was  closed,  Quinton 
swung  round  and  held  out  his  hand 
to  Maurice. 

"Millard,"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  clasped 
hands,  "I  knew  that  you  had  pluck,  and  now 
you  have  proved  it." 

"How  could  we  do  or  say  less?"  Maurice 
asked,  looking  Quinton  in  the  face.  "I  would 
rather  die,  as  we  are  going  to  do,  than  work 
as  the  Commandant  desires." 

"We  are  not  going  to  die,  dear  boy,"  said 
Quinton,  his  face  brightening  at  a  sudden 
thought.  "We  shall  use  those  German  clothes 
and  get  away." 

Maurice  was  startled.  For  a  moment  or  two 
the  suggestion  frightened  him  now  that  it  came 
to  be  a  reality  that  the  attempt  to  escape  was 
to  be  made.  He  foresaw  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers he  had  not  thought  of  when  they  were 
talking  the  thing  over  before.  The  sentry 
might  challenge  them,  and  what  then?  He 
would  fire,  and  one  of  them  might  be  hit.  The 
camp  would  be  aroused  by  the  night  shot,  and 
the  other,  if  he  managed  to  avoid  the  sentry, 
would  sooner  or  later  be  run  down,  only  to  be 
taken  back,  perhaps  to  be  flogged  brutally,  as 

229 


230  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

other  prisoners  had  been,  and  then  shot.  Yet 
they  would  die  if  they  remained  in  the  hut,  and 
there  was  certainly  what  Quinton  called  "a 
sporting  chance"  if  they  tried  to  escape. 

"When  shall  we  start?"  Maurice  asked, 
standing  at  the  dust-begrimed  and  cobwebbed 
window,  looking  through  to  try  to  discover  the 
most  promising  direction  to  take  when  they 
should  steal  away  from  the  hut. 

"When  it  is  too  dark  for  anybody  to  see  us. 
We'll  keep  clear  of  that  sentry;  and  as  for  the 
barbed  wire  entanglements,  I  have  this.  I 
cribbed  it  yesterday,  in  anticipation  of  our  bid 
for  freedom,  and  it  will  cut  the  wire,  so  that 
we  shall  not  be  torn  with  it." 

Quinton  showed  Maurice  a  strong  wire-cut- 
ter, but  produced  it  stealthily,  although  they 
were  alone  in  the  hut. 

"And  what  about  our  khaki  clothes'?"  Mau- 
rice asked.  "If  we  leave  them  here  they  will 
guess  we  are  wearing  other  garments,  not  to 
look  like  Englishmen." 

"We'll  carry  them  away  and  toss  them 
somewhere — into  a  pond,  or  down  a  well." 

Quinton 's  mind  was  alert.  He  had  been 
thinking  the  thing  over  all  day,  and  when  they 
sat  down  on  one  of  the  ragged  mattresses  he 
explained  his  plans. 

Maurice  quailed  at  the  thought  of  what  was 
before  them,  for  the  dangers  were  so  great. 
They  might  be  fortunate  enough  to  get  past 
the  sentries  and  the  barbed  wire  entangle- 
ments, but  there  were  other  perils  even  when 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  231 

they  were  outside  the  camp.  They  might  be 
tracked  by  bloodhounds  that  he  had  some- 
times heard  baying  in  the  camp,  down  by  the 
Commandant's  quarters,  and  either  mauled 
by  their  great  fangs,  or  be  cornered  until 
their  pursuers  arrived.  Still,  it  was  death  to 
stay. 

They  stood  at  the  window  until  the  daylight 
faded,  watching  the  country,  carefully  taking 
note  of  the  roads  and  the  river,  and  deciding 
on  the  way  they  would  take. 

"You  are  talking  of  our  traveling  west,  or 
east,"  Maurice  whispered,  half  impatiently, 
"yet  our  army  lies  away  to  the  south." 

"Won't  they  guess  that  we  shall  make  for 
the  south  if  they  miss  us?"  Quinton  asked. 
"They  will  never  suppose  that  we  shall  go  so 
wide  of  the  mark;  and  not  one  of  them  will 
think  us  so  mad  as  to  travel  away  from  the 
place  we  are  naturally  anxious  to  reach.  We 
have  everything  in  our  favor.  We  can  both 
speak  German  like  natives.  We  shall  have 
German  clothes  on.  We  have  passports,  and 
I  have  some  German  money.  Our  chances  are 
fairly  good,  I  think,  especially  if  we  don't  show 
ourselves  nervous." 

It  is  said  that  the  best-made  plans  often  go 
astray,  and  consternation  filled  them  almost 
while  they  spoke.  They  heard  the  tramp  of 
soldiers'  feet,  and  at  the  officer's  call  for  a 
halt,  the  door  of  the  hut  was  flung  open  noisily, 
the  officer  entering,  followed  by  two  of  his  men, 
the  others  remaining  outside. 


232  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

' 'Follow  me!"  he  exclaimed,  standing  a  step 
or  two  away  from  Quinton  and  Maurice. 

' '  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  us  1 "  Quin- 
ton asked,  with  a  studied  carelessness.  Had 
the  officer  answered  his  question  he  would  not 
have  been  surprised  if  he  told  them  they  were 
to  be  shot  off-hand.  But  he  made  no  reply. 
He  stood  stolidly,  with  his  sword  drawn,  and 
in  the  dim  light  Maurice  saw  how  his  hand 
rested  on  the  revolver  at  his  belt. 

They  stepped  forward  among  the  soldiers, 
more  than  one  of  whom  muttered  something 
under  his  breath,  and  spat  on  the  ground  in 
token  of  contempt. 

1 '  Silence ! ' '  exclaimed  the  officer  sharply,  and 
the  march  began. 

Maurice  and  his  companion  felt  that  this  was 
their  last  march,  and  death  was  not  far  away; 
but  to  their  surprise  they  were  marched 
through  the  town,  and  halted  at  a  somewhat 
pretentious-looking  hotel.  Leaving  them  in  the 
hall,  under  guard,  the  officer  went  away,  and 
when  he  returned  the  prisoners  were  ushered 
into  a  handsomely  furnished  and  brilliantly 
lighted  room,  where  the  Commandant  was  sit- 
ting at  the  table. 

He  went  straight  to  the  business  in  hand. 

"You  have  had  time  to  think  things  over," 
he  said  abruptly.  "No  doubt  death  is  not  a 
pleasant  prospect,  although  it  will  resolve  it- 
self into  a  certainty  if  you  maintain  the  atti- 
tude you  displayed  in  the  workshop.  You  have 
changed  your  minds,  I  suppose?" 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  233 

"My  mind  has  not  changed,"  said  Quinton 
quietly,  and  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  his  firm- 
ness. 

"Not  with  the  death  penalty  in  front  of 
you?"  exclaimed  the  Commandant,  betraying 
his  surprise. 

1  *  I  stand  by  what  I  said.  I  will  not  work  at 
a  task  which  means  harm  to  my  countrymen." 

The  soldier  sat  in  silence  for  a  while. 

"What  of  you?"  he  asked,  pointing  his  fore- 
finger at  Maurice. 

"I  say  the  same  as  when  I  was  in  the  work- 
shop. I  will  not  work  against  my  own  coun- 
try, and  I  ought  not  to  be  asked  to  do  so,"  said 
Maurice,  with  spirit.  It  was  said  quietly,  and 
there  was  no  insolence  in  his  words,  nor  in  his 
tone. 

The  Commandant  called  across  the  room  to 
the  officer  who  was  standing  at  the  door. 

"Take  these  men  to  that  room  I  spoke  of. 
They  must  have  prison  fare,  and  remain  there 
until  the  morning.  That  will  give  them  time 
to  think.  Then  I  will  have  them  here  for  their 
final  answer." 

Shut  up  in  a  room  so  dark  when  they  entered 
that  they  did  not  know  whether  it  had  a  window 
in  it,  or  a  mattress,  or  whether  they  would 
have  to  lie  on  the  bare  boards,  they  stood  for  a 
while  just  within,  in  absolute  hopelessness. 
There  was  nothing  now  but  death,  for  both 
were  resolute  not  to  work  treacherously  against 
their  country.  A  key  turned  in  the  lock  before 
long,  and  a  soldier,  standing  in  the  doorway 


234  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  held  out  a  tin  can 
of  water  and  a  loaf  of  black  bread. 

"I  wouldn't  have  given  you  this  much  if  I 
had  been  the  Commandant,"  the  man  said,  spit- 
ting in  contempt,  like  the  others  outside  the 
hut. 

In  their  glance  round  the  room  when  the 
lantern-light  briefly  lit  it  up,  they  saw  a  couple 
of  mattresses  on  the  floor  by  the  opposite  wall, 
and  that  was  all  the  place  contained.  So  far 
as  they  could  tell,  it  had  no  window,  so  that 
the  probabilities  were  that  until  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning  they  would  be  in  darkness. 

Groping  for  the  mattresses  with  their  feet, 
they  sat  on  them  and  talked;  but  being  hungry 
they  ate  the  nauseous  bread.  It  was  probably 
their  last  meal,  for  they  were  determined  not 
to  be  coerced  into  this  work.  They  thought  of 
that  lost  chance  with  the  clothes  that  were  hid- 
den away  in  the  hut.  They  were  worthless 
now.  They  could  only  wait,  and  trust  to  God, 
who  had  brought  men  out  of  dangers  quite  as 
great. 

"I  think  I'll  lie  down,"  said  Maurice,  pulling 
off  his  jacket  when  some  hours  had  gone;  but 
he  stopped,  with  his  arms  half-way  out  of  the 
sleeves.  He  had  heard  a  peculiar  sound,  and 
whispered  to  Quinton.  He,  too,  had  heard  it, 
and  was  listening. 

The  sound  stopped,  but  came  again,  and 
might  very  well  have  been  caused  by  a  rat 
gnawing  at  the  woodwork  near  the  door. 

"It  must  be  rats,"  said  Quinton,  but  while 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  235 

he  was  speaking,  a  light  flashed  on  them,  so 
dazzling  after  the  dense  darkness  that  they 
had  to  turn  away.  Then  they  saw  the  walls, 
the  floor  and  the  ceiling  of  this  room,  the  floor 
thick  with  dust,  and  the  walls  cobwebbed.  It 
had  no  window  in  it,  and  must  have  been  empty 
for  years;  but  after  that  swift  glance  round, 
they  turned  towards  the  light  in  the  hope  of 
discovering  who  held  it. 

" Don't  speak,  but  come  to  me  quietly."  The 
words  were  gruffly  spoken,  and  in  a  whisper. 

"  'Tis  Grobner,  isn't  it!"  Maurice  asked, 
ignoring  the  warning. 

"I  told  you  not  to  speak,"  came  the  half 
angry  response.  "Be  quick!" 

They  walked  towards  the  dazzling  light  which 
was  now  turned  to  the  floor,  so  that  they  might 
see  where  to  tread.  Then  the  light  flashed  at 
an  opening  which  might  have  been  a  fireplace, 
and  they  found  that  it  was  so  when  they  drew 
near,  for  Grobner,  moving  the  light  again  and 
again,  showed  that  he  was  standing  in  a  space 
from  whence  the  grate  had  fallen  back  far 
enough,  like  an  iron  door  on  hinges,  to  allow 
of  their  passing  through. 

"Move  on,"  said  Grobner,  in  an  unamiable, 
voice,  but  they  took  no  notice  of  his  manner, 
for  they  had  never  heard  him  speak  in  any 
other  tone  to  them.  The  thought  with  them 
was  that  they  had  left  that  dark  room  which 
was  in  reality  a  condemned  cell  for  the  time 
being,  and  were  now  in  a  plainly  furnished  bed- 
room. 


236  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Hold  this,"  said  Grobner,  handing  the 
heavy  flash-lamp  to  Maurice.  The  German's 
movements  were  swift,  but  stealthy,  not  to 
make  any  sound,  and  to  their  amazement  those 
who  looked  at  him  saw  the  doorway  fall  back 
in  its  place,  and  a  sound  followed  like  the  click 
of  a  latch.  They  looked  now  on  an  ordinary 
bedroom  fireplace,  the  natural  part  of  this 
room  to  which  they  had  come. 

"If  there  had  been  time  you  would  see  that 
no  one  would  suspect  that  the  grate  would 
move  like  that.  Nobody  in  the  hotel  out  of 
which  I  have  brought  you  would  think  of  it, 
and  if  they  miss  you  they  will  think  and  think 
till  they  are  gray  before  they  will  discover  how 
you  got  away.  They  will  say  you  climbed  up 
the  chimney  on  to  the  roof;  but  I'll  show  you 
something  better  than  that  presently.  But 
we'll  get  to  business.  There's  no  time  for 
talking.  Get  out  of  those  tell-tale  khaki  clothes 
and  be  quick  about  it.  These  are  the  clothes  I 
gave  you,  and  which  you  left  in  the  hut.  Get 
into  them." 

Grobner  was  no  more  friendly  in  tone  or 
look  than  before  while  he  lit  the  candles  in  the 
room.  They  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  the 
same  gruff,  unsociable  German  engineer  they 
knew  him  to  be  in  the  workshop,  and  no  one 
would  have  thought,  from  the  scowl  on  his  face, 
that  he  owed  his  life  to  these  two  Englishmen 
who  were  standing  in  the  room  with  him. 

"Time's  precious,"  said  Grobner  impa- 
tiently, since  they  both  appeared  to  be  dazed 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  237 

with  this  unexpected  release  from  what  was  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  a  condemned  cell. 

With  this  reminder  they  dressed  quickly,  and 
Grobner,  standing  well  back  to  get  a  full  view 
of  them,  nodded  with  satisfaction. 

"You'll  do.  Look  in  that  glass,  and  see  for 
yourselves,"  he  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  big 
mirror  neither  of  them  had  noticed  before. 
The  sight  of  two  German  peasants  took  them 
by  surprise,  for  the  transformation  was  so 
complete. 

"Where  are  your  passports?"  Grobner 
asked.  "I  looked  for  them,  but  could  not  find 
them  with  your  clothes." 

"They  are  here.  But  what  next,  Grob- 
ner?" Maurice  asked,  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. 

"Follow  me,  and  you  will  soon  know,"  was 
the  almost  surly  rejoinder.  Nothing  seemed 
to  thaw  this  stolid  German,  who  turned  his  back 
on  them  and  led  the  way  out  of  the  room.  They 
went  after  him  into  a  passage,  lit  up  by  the 
flash-lamp,  and  coming  to  some  steps,  they 
descended  to  the  lower  part  of  the  house. 

Wondering  whether  they  were  to  be  ushered 
into  the  street  and  left  to  shift  for  themselves, 
and  feeling  nervous  at  the  prospect  of  possibly 
running  into  the  arms  of  some  of  the  soldiers, 
they  saw  Grobner  turn  to  a  door  under  the 
stairs.  The  steps  now  were  of  stone,  and  they 
went  down  until  they  found  themselves  in  a 
cobble-floored  cellar.  The  unspoken  question 
as  to  what  was  next  was  soon  answered,  for 


238  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Grobner  pulled  up  some  of  the  cobbles,  and 
lifting  a  square  stone,  bade  them  look  down. 
They  saw  a  black  hole,  but  throwing  a  light 
into  it  he  beckoned  to  them  to  follow  him.  The 
steps  they  now  descended  were  slippery  with 
the  moisture  which  oozed  out  of  the  walls,  and 
left  a  slime  which  rendered  the  footing  dan- 
gerous. 

"How  do  you  account  for  this?"  Quinton 
asked,  while  they  moved  on,  slipping  at  almost 
every  step.  At  first  Grobner  made  no  answer, 
but  one  came  when  they  had  gone  farther. 

"The  hotel  you  have  just  left  was  once  the 
home  of  the  ruler  of  the  province,  and  he  had 
this  passage  made,  so  I  was  told  by  my  father, 
in  case  he  might  want  to  escape  in  a  hurry. 
He  was  a  tyrant,  and  had  a  fear  that  some  day 
the  people  would  rise  and  want  to  murder 
him." 

Further  on,  the  water  dripped  from  the  ceil- 
ing, and  splashed  into  pools  on  the  floor  of  the 
passage,  while  the  walls  were  still  heavily  cov- 
ered with  moisture. 

"We  are  under  the  river,"  said  Grobner. 

The  passage  began  to  rise,  and  the  going  on 
the  incline  was  treacherous  to  the  feet  until 
they  reached  some  dry  steps  which  led  to  an- 
other passage,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a  blank 
wall. 

"Trapped!"  exclaimed  Quinton  in  dismay, 
but  Grobner  growled  something  ungraciously. 

"Look  overhead,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
square  plate  of  iron.  "That's  the  way  out, 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  239 

but  before  I  open  it  I  must  put  out  this  light. 
I'm  not  keen  on  being  found  out  and  getting 
shot." 

They  stood  in  darkness  while  Grobner  spoke, 
but  hearing  a  creaking  of  rusted  hinges,  they 
presently  saw  the  moonlight,  and  as  the  plate 
rose  higher  the  stars  came  into  view. 

Grobner  scrambled  through  the  opening,  and 
the  others,  following,  found  themselves  in  the 
open  air  among  some  bushes.  Near  by  was  the 
river,  gleaming  like  silver  in  the  moonlight, 
and  behind  it  the  city  from  whence  they  had 
just  escaped.  Away  in  the  distance,  in  front 
of  them,  were  the  mountains. 

"Hush!"  exclaimed  Grobner,  shaken  out  of 
his  stolidity  by  some  unexpected  alarm.  From 
among  the  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  meadow 
came  some  horsemen,  moving  along  a  road 
which  led  to  the  city.  More  horsemen  followed 
after  an  interval,  by  hundreds,  and  with  them 
a  battery  of  field  howitzers,  the  heavy  gun  car- 
riages shaking  the  ground. 

Those  who  watched  had  to  stand  in  hiding 
among  the  bushes  for  more  than  an  hour  before 
the  last  soldier  passed  by. 

"You  can  venture  now,"  said  Grobner,  who 
had  become  increasingly  impatient  while  this 
great  body  of  troops  filed  past.  ' '  Away  beyond 
those  mountains  are  your  own  men — accursed 
Englishmen!"  he  exclaimed,  between  his  teeth, 
and  they  saw  how  his  hands  were  clenched,  and 
how  his  face,  surly  at  its  best,  was  dark  with 
hate.  "You  must  win  your  own  way  through 


240  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

now,"  he  said,  mastering  Ms  passion.  "I've 
done  all  I  can  for  you.  I  must  go  back,  for  I 
shall  be  missed  if  I  stay  longer." 

He  turned  to  go,  but  Quinton  put  out  his 
hand  to  keep  him. 

"Don't  go,  Grobner,  until  we  have  thanked 
you." 

"I  don't  want  any  thanks,"  exclaimed  Grob- 
ner, almost  resentfully.  "It  was  an  accursed 
ill  chance  which  put  me  under  such  obligations 
to  you  both,  as  to  land  me  in  this  predicament. 
I  had  to  do  something  in  return.  I  had  to  pay 
off  that  debt  somehow,  and  I've  done  it  now;  so 
we're  quits." 

"You've  saved  our  lives,  Grobner,"  said 
Maurice,  who  was  watching  the  man's  face,  lit 
up  by  the  moon,  with  wonder.  "We  should 
have  had  to  die  in  the  morning,  and  you  have 
kept  us  from  that.  The  least  we  can  do  is  to 
tell  you  from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  that  we 
thank  you  more  than  words  can  tell." 

"I  don't  want  your  thanks.  I  wouldn't  have 
done  this  but  for  the  obligation  you  put  me 
under.  I  would  have  watched  you  both  go  out 
to  be  shot,  and  not  be  sorry;  but  I  couldn't  do 
that  because  you  kept  that  fellow  off  in  the  nick 
of  time.  That  put  me  in  your  debt,  and  I 
had  to  pay  it  off  somehow.  Well,  I've  done 
it,  and  we're  quits.  Now  look  to  your- 
selves. ' ' 

"Won't  you  shake  hands?"  Quinton  ex- 
claimed. 

"I?"  cried  Grobner.    "I  touch  the  hand  of 


THE  GERMAN  GUIDE  241 

an  Englishman  in  friendship?  Never!  I  am 
going,  and  my  feeling  is  what  it  has  been  all 
through  the  war — -God  strafe  England!" 

He  swung  round,  went  to  the  hole  in  the 
ground,  and  disappeared,  leaving  Maurice  and 
Quinton  alone  among  the  bushes. 


XVHI 
THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE 

THEY  remained  in  the  bunch  of  bushes  for 
several  minutes  after  Grobner  had  left 
them,  afraid  to  stir,  lest  they  might  be 
seen  and  challenged.  Although  they  were 
wearing  such  a  disguise,  which  transformed 
them,  and  had  their  passports,  they  had  the 
overpowering  fear  that  they  would  be  discov- 
ered as  escaped  English  prisoners,  and  would 
be  marched  back  to  the  camp  to  be  shot.  Yet 
it  was  just  as  dangerous  to  stay  where  they 
were. 

"We  can't  stay  here  all  night,  Quinton," 
said  Maurice,  when  they  had  watched 
anxiously,  and  saw  no  signs  of  anything 
human.  The  only  living  things  were  some 
horses  feeding  or  sleeping  in  the  meadow,  and 
in  the  distant  fields  some  cattle,  and  a  number 
of  pigs.  "We  must  take  the  risks.  That  surly 
fellow  may  have  gone  back  to  betray  us.  He 
cleared  his  debt,  but  after  having  salved  his 
conscience,  he  may  set  the  soldiers  after  us, 
telling  some  trumped-up  tale  to  clear  himself. ' ' 
"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Quinton. 
"Let  us  start  at  once.  But  if  he  should  betray 
us,  he  will  think  we  made  for  our  camp  in  the 
direction  of  the  mountains.  We  had  better 

842 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          243 

take  the  risks,  trust  to  our  disguises,  and  go  in 
the  opposite  direction,  and  get  to  our  own 
people  by  degrees,  when  the  danger  of  pursuit 
is  over." 

Maurice  agreed,  and  making  for  a  bit  of 
forest  land,  every  step  taking  them  farther 
away  from  the  British  lines,  they  tramped  on 
and  on,  getting  out  into  the  open  presently, 
crossing  the  river  by  a  bridge,  to  reach  some 
hills  near  by. 

After  a  while  they  came  to  a  bit  of  rising 
ground,  and  paused  to  look  back.  The  moon 
was  shining  in  a  cloudless  sky,  and  they  had 
an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  country  for  miles. 
In  the  distance  they  saw  the  camp  in  which  they 
had  spent  so  many  months  of  misery  and 
tyranny,  and  the  town  where  the  Commandant 
had  his  quarters ;  but  they  had  not  been  watch- 
ing many  moments  when  Maurice  laid  his  hand 
on  his  companion's  arm. 

"Quinton,  look  yonder!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a 
horrified  whisper.  "Grobner  must  have  be- 
trayed us!" 

They  watched.  They  could  see  the  bushes 
in  which  they  had  been  hiding,  and  on  this  side 
of  them  were  a  score  of  horsemen,  and  as  many 
foot  soldiers,  searching  everywhere,  but  vainly. 

"They  are  looking  for  us,"  said  Quinton. 
"If  they  come  this  way  we  have  no  hiding- 
place.  See  how  open  the  country  is,  but  for 
that  bit  of  forest,  and  those  scattered  hedges 
along  the  roadside. ' ' 

"They  will  not  come  this  way,"  Maurice 


244  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

whispered  eagerly.  "See!  they  think  we  have 
made  for  the  hills — the  nearest  way  home!" 

4 'The  longest,  if  we  had  taken  it,  or  at  all 
events  the  quickest  to  death,  and  longest  to 
safety,"  muttered  Quinton;  and  both  now  were 
crouching  low,  to  get  some  shelter  behind  a  low 
bush,  through  which  they  could  see  all  that  was 
being  done. 

The  horsemen  had  spread  out  in  wide-open 
order,  and  were  galloping  towards  the  hills, 
some  halting  at  the  bushes  to  search  among 
them,  and  others  riding  in  all  directions,  but 
always  moving  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  south. 
The  infantry  were  following,  spreading  out  and 
searching  more  carefully  than  the  cavalrymen, 
and  in  the  same  direction.  But  none  of  them 
came  towards  the  spot  where  Maurice  and 
Quinton  were  in  hiding ;  for  who  would  suppose 
the  escaping  prisoners  would  be  mad  enough, 
even  if  disguised,  to  go  farther  away  from  their 
own  lines  1 

"We'll  make  the  distance  between  ourselves 
and  those  German  soldiers  as  great  as  pos- 
sible," said  Quinton.  "Shall  we  start?" 

"I  am  ready,"  said  Maurice;  and  they 
tramped  away. 

They  crossed  the  empty  road,  and  did  not 
venture  to  travel  on  it,  lest  that,  too,  might  be 
searched.  They  struck  away  into  the  meadows, 
down  the  sides  of  cornfields,  among  the  pota- 
toes, past  farms,  even  down  village  streets, 
making  as  far  as  possible  a  straight  line  which 
ran  parallel  to  the  mountains,  but  farther  away 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          245 

from  them,  rather  than  nearer,  when,  as  some- 
times happened,  they  had  to  decide  on  one  of 
two  roads. 

"We  must  be  miles  away  by  .now,"  said 
Maurice,  who  was  beginning  to  feel  tired  with 
the  tramp  over  such  rough  country,  and  would 
willingly  have  sat  down  to  rest.  He  was  hungry 
moreover. 

"A  mile  or  two  more,  old  man,"  Quinton 
exclaimed  eagerly.  '  *  The  farther  we  go  the  less 
likely  they  are  to  think  of  our  whereabouts. 
They  will  guess  we  had  a  start  of  hours,  and, 
showing  two  pairs  of  clean  heels,  got  away." 

They  came  to  a  road  and  decided  that  they 
would  travel  on  it  for  a  time,  as  being  easier 
than  across  the  fields  of  all  sorts,  where  the 
going  was  so  heavy;  but  they  had  not  gone  far 
before  they  heard  sounds  which  made  them  pull 
up  suddenly. 

"We  must  hide,"  exclaimed  Quinton;  and 
they  crawled  through  the  first  break  in  the 
hedges  which  lined  the  road. 

The  sounds  drew  nearer,  growing  in  volume, 
and  they  knew  that  it  was  not  the  tramp  of  a 
few  men,  but  the  passing  of  an  army.  Some 
soldiers  came  into  view,  the  German  helmets 
first  showing  as  the  leaders  marched  up  the  hill. 
Those  who  passed  the  spot  where  they  lay  in 
the  deep  shadows  were  infantry  in  full  march- 
ing equipment.  Battalion  after  battalion  moved 
onward,  towards  the  hills.  They  were  there  by 
hundreds — by  thousands — and  beyond,  on  an- 
other road,  they  saw  others  like  these  Germans 


246  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

traveling  in  the  same  direction.  Beyond,  on 
another  road  again,  were  soldiers.  It  was  a 
mighty  army  on  the  move,  intent  on  joining 
those  who  were  in  the  lines  facing  the  Allies. 

Then  came  the  cavalry,  splendid  in  their  uni- 
forms, although  they  were  somewhat  battle- 
worn,  the  helmets  gleaming  in  the  moonlight. 
The  tramp  of  thousands  of  horses '  hoofs,  shak- 
ing the  ground,  made  a  sound  which  rendered  it 
impossible  for  Quinton  and  Maurice  to  speak 
to  each  other.  But  they  did  not  want  to  talk. 
They  were  glued,  as  it  were,  to  that  sight — 
that  on-moving  mass  which  might  shortly  be 
hurled  on  the  English  or  French  lines,  ac- 
cording to  the  plan  of  the  German  Crown 
Prince,  who  was  said  to  be  in  supreme  com- 
mand. 

The  cavalry  were  succeeded  by  artillery  of 
all  sorts — field  batteries  made  up  of  guns  which 
were  spoken  of  as  unequalled  by  any  in  the 
world,  but  heavy,  enormous,  and  going  slowly 
because  they  were  so  cumbersome. 

Wherever  they  looked,  here,  in  this  road,  in 
the  hedge  of  which  they  were  hiding,  and  be- 
hind them  in  the  roads  they  had  already 
crossed,  as  well  as  those  which  were  on  in  front 
of  them,  the  two  fugitives  saw  that  the  squa- 
drons were  going  at  a  trot,  taking  the  field  when 
the  artillery  proved  too  slow,  the  great  guns 
rolling  on  in  endless  array,  their  ammunition 
wagons  in  their  wake. 

After  a  while  the  cavalry  that  came  up  be- 
hind left  the  roads  altogether,  and  moved 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE 

across  the  fields,  regardless  of  destruction  to 
the  crops.  Some  of  them  came  so  near  Maurice 
and  his  companion  that  they  drew  up  closer  to 
the  hedge,  hiding  in  the  dense  shadows.  The 
horses  came  so  near  at  times  that  the  riders 
brushed  the  branches,  and  Maurice  had  a  fear 
lest  his  feet  might  be  trampled  on  by  the  iron 
hoofs. 

"We're  booked  here  till  the  sun  rises,  I'm 
afraid,"  said  Quinton  anxiously,  putting  his 
lips  close  to  Maurice's  ears,  and  speaking 
loudly,  confident  that  he  could  not  be  heard  by 
the  soldiers. 

"Then  we  shall  be  caught,  unless  we  make 
a  pretense  of  being  countrymen  going  off  to  our 
work,"  was  Maurice's  answer;  but,  like  Quin- 
ton, he  was  doubtful  as  to  the  outcome. 

The  last  soldier  went,  however,  and  but  for 
a  few  stragglers  they  were  alone.  The  roads 
on  all  sides  were  thinning  out.  It  was  evident 
that  the  army  was  moving  in  haste,  bent  on 
some  great  effort,  or  to  reinforce  another  which 
was  thinking  to  beat  its  way  through  to  the 
south,  to  get  to  Paris  or  to  Calais. 

The  road  became  empty  when  they  had  been 
lying  cramped  like  this  for  hours,  and  they 
rose  stiffly,  wondering  what  their  next  course 
should  be. 

"Why  not  make  for  some  farmhouse  and  get 
some  food?"  said  Maurice. 

"I'm  ready.  There's  one  over  there,  a  long 
way  off  any  road,  and  possibly  they  will  be  will- 
ing to  serve  us,  since  I  have  a  bit  of  money. 


248  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

Germans  are  not  likely  to  turn  their  backs  on 
that  in  war  time." 

Quinton  spoke  easily,  but  his  mind  was  not 
as  confident  as  his  words  sounded.  They 
tramped  over  the  fields,  looking  about  in  all 
directions  for  any  signs  of  another  body  of 
troops  approaching,  and  at  last  they  reached 
the  farmhouse.  It  was  in  a  quiet  spot,  far 
away  from  any  road,  and  there  was  a  woman 
moving  about,  but  not  a  man  in  sight. 

She  started  when  she  saw  two  men  moving 
in  at  the  gate,  and  she  set  down  the  bucket  of 
water  she  was  carrying  across  the  yard. 

"What's  your  will?"  she  asked. 

"We  want  something  to  eat,  if  you  can  sell 
us  some, ' '  speaking  as  much  like  a  countryman 
as  was  possible. 

"I  can  only  sell  you  some  black  bread  and 
milk, ' '  said  the  woman  doubtfully,  as  if  search- 
ing about  in  her  mind  for  what  was  in  her 
larder.  '  *  There 's  some  cheese  and  a  little 
bacon,  but  no  fresh  meat. ' ' 

"Anything  that's  eatable,"  said  Maurice. 
"We  are  hungry,  and  tired,  too,  and  we  must 
be  off.  Didn't  the  army  go  by  just  now?" 

"Yes.  They're  for  the  front.  'Tis  said 
the  Crown  Prince  is  going  to  break  through  to 
Paris,  and  this  time  he  won't  be  hindered.  But 
come  in!" 

They  followed  the  woman  into  the  kitchen. 
Everything  was  spotlessly  clean,  but  there  was 
a  strange  silence  about  the  house.  There  was 
no  sign  of  any  men,  and  the  woman,  when  she 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          249 

set  what  food  she  had  on  the  table,  seemed  to 
answer  their  unspoken  question. 

"I  can't  give  you  much  attention.  I've  only 
my  own  pair  of  hands  to  do  all  the  work;  and 
there's  my  boy  of  six  to  look  after,  as  well. 
The  men  are  gone  to  the  army,  and  all  I  can 
do  is  to  feed  the  cattle,  milk  them,  and  keep 
things  from  going  to  rack  and  ruin.  War's  a 
dreadful  thing,  even  when  we  are  victorious, 
and  are  driving  those  accursed  English  back  to 
the  sea,  and  the  French  are  being  swept  like 
sheep  to  their  proud  city  of  Paris,  which  they 
say  will  be  taken  in  a  month  or  two. ' ' 

They  sat  down  to  the  frugal  meal  and  talked, 
when  presently  a  little  fellow  came  in  and 
stared  at  them;  then  trotted  away  down  the 
slope  to  the  river,  where  he  played  on  the  bank. 
Maurice  and  Quinton  watched  him  and  went  on 
with  their  conversation.  If  they  had  spoken  in 
German  all  would  have  been  well,  but  they 
spoke  in  English,  and  the  woman,  who  had 
come  in  unknown  to  them,  stood  and  stared; 
then  she  burst  in  on  their  words. 

"You  are  Englishmen!"  she  cried.  "You 
are  spies!"  and  the  clamor  of  her  voice  seemed 
to  fill  the  house. 

"What?"  cried  Quinton,  going  hot  at  the 
woman's  protest  and  their  danger. 

"I  tell  you,  you  are  English !  Get  out  of  my 
home  1 ' ' 

She  came  to  the  table,  and  in  her  anger  she 
overturned  it,  and  stood  before  them,  panting 
in  her  fury. 


250  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"You  are  English  spies!"  she  cried  again. 

Quinton  flung  down  a  coin  at  her  feet,  and 
with  Maurice  at  his  heels  he  left  the  house. 
Suddenly  a  cry  of  horror  burst  from  the 
woman's  lips,  for  she  had  followed  them  to  the 
door,  and  now  she  ran  past  them  down  the 
slope. 

"My  child!  my  child!"  she  wailed,  as  she 
went. 

Maurice  and  Quinton  saw  what  had  hap- 
pened. The  child  had  been  playing  by  the 
river,  which  was  deep,  had  climbed  on  some 
railings,  and  then  in  a  spirit  of  bravado  was 
standing  on  the  topmost  bar,  but  clutching  at 
a  drooping  branch  of  an  overhanging  tree  with 
one  hand,  and  waving  the  other  in  triumph. 

"He'll  fall  in!"  cried  Maurice;  and  yet  they 
both  felt  that  they  ought  to  hurry  away,  lest 
the  woman  should  rouse  the  countryside  against 
them,  and  that  would  mean  death  in  the  event 
of  capture. 

"He  is  in!"  exclaimed  Quinton,  for  the 
branch  broke  while  Maurice  spoke.  The  child 
swayed.  The  wonder  in  that  brief  moment 
was  as  to  which  way  the  boy  would  fall — this 
side,  to  the  bank,  or  the  other  way,  into  the 
stream.  The  mother  saw  what  had  happened, 
and  a  cry  of  despair  came  when  she  saw  the 
danger,  and  then  the  worst,  for  the  child  fell 
into  the  deep  river. 

Maurice  bounded  forward,  and  although  the 
mother  was  racing  on  frantically,  he  passed 
her.  After  him  came  Quinton,  only  a  few  paces 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          251 

behind.  When  he  came  to  the  river-bank,  the 
boy  was  beating  about,  but  he  threw  up  his  little 
hands  and  sank.  Maurice  did  not  hesitate. 
Just  as  he  was,  without  throwing  off  his  heavy 
boots,  which  were  clogged  with  mud  after  the 
long  night-tramp,  he  plunged  in  headlong,  and 
brought  up  the  child,  as  the  mother  reached  the 
bank,  wringing  her  hands  in  despair. 

"Stand  back,  or  you  will  slip  in,"  Quinton 
cried  to  the  woman,  flinging  himself  full  length 
on  the  back,  in  readiness  to  clutch  at  the  boy 
when  Maurice  came  within  reach. 

Maurice  had  the  child  safely,  and  struck  out 
for  the  bank,  but  the  stream  was  strong,  and  it 
was  difficult  to  come  in.  He  was  a  fine  swim- 
mer, and  in  spite  of  his  clothes  and  the  heavy 
boots,  he  drew  nearer. 

"Can  you  reach  him?"  he  asked  Quinton, 
after  a  hard  struggle  to  get  nearer. 

"Yes." 

Quinton  reached  out  far,  but,  overbalancing, 
fell  in  headlong. 

"I  have  him,"  he  cried,  a  moment  later, 
clutching  at  the  child's  clothes,  and  putting  him 
on  the  bank  into  the  hands  of  the  mother,  who 
gathered  the  little  fellow,  wet  and  streaming,  to 
her  bosom. 

' '  My  boy !  my  darling ! ' '  she  cried,  kissing  his 
wet  cheeks  and  lips.  Then  she  saw  Maurice, 
whom  Quinton  was  helping  out  of  the  river. 
The  debt  she  owed  them  brought  about  a  revul- 
sion, and  she  spoke  in  the  instant,  while  she 
held  her  boy  more  closely  to  her  breast : 


AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Oh,  I  recall  what  I  said.  Come  into  my 
house  I  Come  in,  though  you  are  enemies!  I 
am  for  ever  in  your  debt !" 

She  ran  up  the  slope  to  the  farmhouse,  but 
at  the  door  she  turned  to  Maurice  and  his  com- 
panion, who  were  pausing,  wondering  what 
their  course  should  be. 

"Come,  in  the  dear  Lord's  name!  Come! 
You  are  welcome!  I  will  not  betray  you 
now. ' ' 

They  took  her  at  her  word,  and  followed  her 
into  the  house.  When  they  stood  in  the  door- 
way she  was  stripping  the  whimpering  child,  to 
dry  him ;  but  as  they  stood  and  watched,  bring- 
ing her  whatever  she  asked  for,  and  following 
her 'instructions  as  though  she  had  spoken  no 
harsh  words,  and  had  no  power  to  do  them 
harm,  she  looked  at  them  with  great  concern. 
She  saw  that  the  boy  had  taken  no  harm,  and 
as  soon  as  she  had  rubbed  him  dry,  and  dressed 
him  in  warm  clothes  which  they  brought  to  her 
out  of  a  box  in  a  room  upstairs,  she  turned  her 
attention  to  them.  She  set  the  boy  down,  now 
laughing  at  his  adventure,  and  threw  out  her 
hands  to  them. 

"You  are  Englishmen!"  she  cried;  "I  know 
you  are;  but  you  have  saved  my  boy,  my  only 
child,  and  from  my  very  heart  I  thank  you. 
Come  upstairs,  and  I  will  find  you  towels  and 
clean  clothes." 

She  led  the  way,  and  as  they  stood  with  their 
soddened  garments  clinging  to  them,  she  knelt 
at  a  box,  out  of  which  she  took  clothes  in  abun- 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          253 

dance,  which  her  husband  had  worn  before  he 
joined  the  army  for  the  war. 

"Choose  what  you  want,"  she  exclaimed,  her 
face  wet  with  tears.  "  Nothing  is  too  good  for 
those  who  saved  my  boy.  And  here  are  some 
towels. ' ' 

She  left  them,  and  when  they  came  down  the 
stairs  they  found  that  bacon  and  eggs  were 
sizzling  on  hot  plates  at  the  fire. 

"Eat,  and  be  welcome,"  she  said,  as  she  set 
the  food  on  the  table. 

She  watched  them,  her  eyes  misty  with  tears, 
and  with  her  boy  on  her  lap,  now  boisterous 
with  fun,  she  asked  them  who  they  were.  It 
was  useless  to  hide  the  truth  from  her,  and 
Quinton  told  how  they  had  escaped  from  the 
prison  camp. 

"They  will  make  a  search,  and  if  they  find 
you  they  will  shoot  you. ' ' 

They  had  ended  their  meal,  and  Quinton, 
pulling  out  his  purse,  drew  out  a  coin. 

"What!"  cried  the  woman,  with  an  angry 
protestation.  "Would  you  offer  me  money? 
You,  who  have  saved  my  child?  You,  to  whom 
I  shall  be  under  obligation  till  I  die?" 

Quinton  put  back  his  purse.  A  thought  came, 
and  he  spoke. 

"They  may  be  after  us,  and  will  find  us.  Do 
you  think  you  could  let  us  hide  somewhere,  and 
sleep,  until  night  comes?" 

The  woman  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"How  thoughtless  of  me!"  she  exclaimed. 
"I  should  have  let  you  go,  and  it  would  have 


254  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

been  to  your  death — two  brave  men  who  saved 
me  so  much  sorrow.  Come,  and  I  will  show 
you  where  you  may  hide  and  sleep,  and  at  sun- 
set I  will  come  and  call  you." 

She  stood  at  the  door  and  gazed  in  all  direc- 
tions. The  country  was  deserted.  Look  where 
she  would  she  saw  no  living  human  being ;  then 
she  beckoned  to  them.  Leading  the  way  along 
the  side  of  the  house,  leaving  the  boy  asleep  in 
his  wooden  cot,  she  took  them  into  the  hayloft. 
Maurice  and  Quinton  cleared  away  the  hay, 
making  a  passage  to  the  back,  where  they  might 
lie  in  security.  She  left  them  there,  near  to  a 
tiny  window  out  of  which,  if  they  cared  to  do 
so,  they  might  gaze  and  see  the  country  for 
miles. 

They  smoothed  out  their  soddened  passports, 
and  spread  them  on  the  floor  to  dry.  After  a 
while,  worn  out  with  the  toilsome  journey  of  the 
night  and  the  excitement  of  their  experiences, 
they  fell  asleep.  They  slept  until  Maurice  felt 
a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  someone  shaking 
him. 

"Wake  up!"  he  heard  someone  say;  and 
opening  his  eyes,  and  staring  about  him  in  a 
bewildered  way,  wondering  where  he  was,  he 
slowly  recalled  what  had  happened.  The 
woman  was  bending  over  him,  and  with  her 
other  hand  she  was  rousing  Quinton. 

"  'Tis  a  shame  to  wake  you,"  she  said  regret- 
fully, "but  it  has  to  be.  In  an  hour  it  will  be 
getting  dark,  and  you  ought  to  be  on  your  way 
by  then.  I  would  let  you  stay  here  a  week,  or 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          255 

more,  if  you  wished  to  do  so.  I  would  do  any- 
thing to  show  how  I  appreciate  what  you  did 
for  my  child,  but  it  won't  be  safe.  I  have  just 
heard  that  soldiers  are  going  the  round  of 
farms,  commandeering  all  the  hay  and  food 
stuffs  for  the  army  horses,  and  they  may  come 
here  at  any  hour,  and  I  have  nowhere  else  to 
hide  you.  Get  up  soon,  and  come  to  the  house. 
You  shall  have  something  to  eat  before  you 
start  on  your  journey.'* 

She  left  them,  and  they  heard  her  feet  on  the 
steps  of  the  loft,  and  then  they  pulled  them- 
selves together.  Folding  their  passports,  they 
crawled  along  the  little  tunnel  of  hay,  went 
down  the  steps  and  into  the  house,  where  a 
substantial  meal  was  waiting  for  them  on  the 
table — the  more  generously  provided  because 
food  was  growing  scarce  in  Germany  because 
of  the  British  blockade.  Two  bundles  were  on 
the  table  also,  which  she  placed  in  the  canvas 
bags  they  carried  across  their  shoulders. 

"  'Tis  food,"  she  explained.  "If  you  have 
to  buy  on  the  way  you  may  betray  yourselves. 
People  will  find  you  out  as  I  did,  and  they  will 
give  you  short  shrift.  There  will  be  no  trial, 
but  a  quick  order.  They  will  find  a  tree  to 
hang  you  on,  or  a  well  to  stand  you  against 
and  shoot  you.  You  can't  think  how  my  coun- 
trymen hate  the  English.  I  hate  them,  too,  with 
all  my  soul.  There  isn't  a  night  but  what  I 
kneel  by  my  bedside  and  pray  to  God  to  punish 
England.  But  I  can't  pray  that  for  you,  be- 
cause you  saved  my  little  one ;  and  when  I  pray 


256  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

to-night  I  shall  pray  that  same  prayer,  but  pray 
as  well  that  you  may  both  get  to  your  camp  in 
safety.  After  that  you  must  take  the  full  for- 
tune of  war,  and  live  or  die,  just  the  same  as 
my  husband  and  my  brothers  are  doing. ' ' 

They  were  eating  while  she  spoke,  but  when 
the  meal  was  ended  they  rose  from  the  table, 
flung  their  bags  over  their  shoulders,  and  were 
ready  to  go. 

"You  will  let  me  pay  you  for  this  food," 
said  Quinton,  pulling  out  his  purse. 

"I  won't  touch  any  of  it,"  the  woman  pro- 
tested. 

"But  we  have  eaten  so  much,  and  food  is 
dear  and  scarce.  It  was  so  scarce  that  they 
gave  us  very  little  in  the  prisoners'  camp; 
barely  enough  to  keep  us  going,"  Maurice 
urged.  "Take  a  little  to  please  us." 

"I  won't  touch  it,"  the  woman  cried,  stand- 
ing back,  and  putting  her  hands  behind  her. 
"Can't  I  do  some  little  thing  to  repay  you  for 
what  you  did  for  me ! " 

She  went  to  the  door,  from  whence  she  could 
see  for  miles. 

"There's  no  one  in  view.  Now  go,  while  you 
have  the  chance.  Make  for  that  forest  over 
there,  and  go  carefully.  You  may  have  need  of 
something  with  which  to  defend  yourselves." 

She  took  down  a  couple  of  hunting-knives 
from  the  wall,  one  for  each  of  them. 

"Now  go,  and  God  speed  you." 

They  left  her,  and  by  this  time  the  twilight 
was  deepening.  Before  long  it  was  dark.  The 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          257 

moon  would  not  rise  for  a  couple  o'f  hours,  and 
consequently  they  would  have  to  go  cautiously, 
not  only  for  whom  they  might  meet,  but  to 
guard  against  the  likelihood  of  some  unlucky 
accident  which  might  make  escape  impossible. 

They  avoided  the  road  which  led  straight 
into  the  forest.  The  safer  way  was  to  move 
on  the  field  side  of  the  hedges,  where  they 
could  hide  if  anyone  passed  them  on  the  way. 

It  took  them  some  time  to  reach  the  forest, 
but  once  there  they  had  a  greater  sense  of 
safety.  It  was  so  dark  that  they  could  not  be 
seen,  and  if  they  were  alert  for  sounds,  it  would 
be  possible  to  tell  whether  Germans  were 
near,  in  which  event  they  could  move  farther 
back  into  the  depths  of  the  forest.  But  it 
seemed  empty  and  still.  Even  the  animals 
which  the  woman  said  infested  it,  especially  at 
night,  were  gone.  They  had  been  frightened 
into  their  lairs  because  of  the  passing  of  the 
army,  and  no  doubt  the  frequent  presence  of 
bodies  of  troops,  going  to  or  coming  from  the 
front,  made  them  shy  of  coming  out. 

When  the  moon  began  to  show  herself,  and  to 
light  up  the  road  through  the  forest,  shining 
in  at  every  possible  opening,  they  climbed  a 
tree,  startled  at  what  they  heard,  and  then  by 
what  they  saw.  Men  were  on  the  move,  but 
whether  soldiers  or  civilians  they  could  not  tell. 
There  were  sounds  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  the 
roll  of  wheels,  as  if  approaching  from  the  front 
where  the  fighting  was  going  on.  Then  horses 
came  into  view,  the  riders  sitting  limp  in  their 


258  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

saddles.  As  they  passed  the  tree  Maurice  and 
his  comrade  saw  from  their  shelter  among  the 
branches  that  all  the  riders  were  wounded. 
Foot  soldiers  passed,  going  wearily,  some  hold- 
ing on  to  the  stirrups  of  the  riders,  all  their 
accoutrement  flung  away  because  they  were  too 
weak  from  loss  of  blood  to  carry  anything  but 
themselves,  and  that  they  could  scarcely  do. 
Later  on,  while  they  remained  among  the 
branches,  because  they  still  heard  sounds,  the 
great  ambulance-vans  rolled  by,  loaded  with 
the  more  seriously  wounded,  whose  groans 
were  heard  above  the  noise  of  the  motor- 
engines. 

The  last  van  passed,  and,  the  forest  having 
settled  down  into  night-silence  again,  they 
dropped  out  of  the  tree  and  went  forward. 

"There  must  have  been  some  heavy  fight- 
ing," said  Quinton,  when  they  came  to  a  break 
in  the  forest  and  saw  a  double  railway  line,  on 
which  an  enormously  long  Red  Cross  train  was 
traveling,  drawn  by  two  strong  engines.  It 
was  lit  up  brilliantly,  and  they  could  see  the 
beds  filled  with  wounded  men,  and  the  nurses 
moving  from  bed  to  bed ;  and  in  the  swift  glance 
some  doctors  working  in  the  operating- van. 

Here  they  paused,  for  coming  round  the 
curve  was  another  train  as  full  as  that  which 
had  passed,  and  behind  it  a  third.  Whatever 
the  result  of  the  fighting,  the  Germans  had  suf- 
fered terribly.  Before  an  hour  had  gone,  as 
they  wended  their  way  among  the  trees,  they 
met  parties  of  wounded  able  to  move  on  horse- 
back, or  on  foot,  but  no  less  than  seven  ambu- 


THE  GERMAN  FARMHOUSE          259 

lance  trains  had  swept  by  when  they  crossed 
the  line  at  various  points. 

After  the  traffic  had  ceased  the  forest  settled 
down  into  silence,  and  Maurice  opened  his  heart 
to  his  companion. 

"I  know  you  won't  laugh  at  me,  Quinton,  but 
I  have  the  feeling  that  before  long  I  shall  find 
my  sister  Marjorie.  I've  never  ceased  to  pray 
for  her,  night  and  morning,  and  many  a  time 
in  between.  And  father  has  always  said  that  if 
we  put  our  whole  soul  into  our  prayers  they  can 
never  fail.  I  am  praying  to  see  her  dear  face 
again. ' ' 

"And  with  trust  such  as  yours,  depend  upon 
it  you  will,"  said  Quinton,  with  such  an  assur- 
ance in  his  voice  that  Maurice  exclaimed  as 
they  tramped  along,  "Yes,  something  seems  to 
tell  me  that  I  shall  soon  find  her,  and,  please 
God,  take  her  home." 

At  last  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
and  in  the  scoop  of  it  saw  a  great  mansion 
standing,  no  light  in  any  of  its  windows,  and 
bearing  evidence  of  being  deserted.  The  place 
seemed  to  have  gone  to  rack  and  ruin,  both  the 
garden  and  the  building.  The  shutters  hung 
half  on  their  hinges  at  some  of  the  windows. 
Some  were  gone  altogether,  and  ivy  or  some 
huge  creeping  plants  were  having  their  wild 
way  with  the  place,  even  thrusting  themselves 
in  at  the  broken  windows. 

"What  do  you  say  to  our  going  in  there, 
Millard?"  Quinton  asked.  "It  will  be  day- 
dawn  in  an  hour,  and  we  may  be  wiser  only  to 
travel  by  night,  if  we  can  manage  it." 


XTX 
THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE 

ENTERING  at  the  broken  gateway,  and 
going  cautiously  up  the  winding  car- 
riage-drive, they  came  to  the  garden, 
which  was  entangled  in  such  a  way  as  almost 
to  make  a  passage  through  it  impossible. 
Everything  was  in  such  a  state  of  ruin  that 
they  thought  the  chance  very  great  that  the 
house  was  empty.  Who  would  live  in  such  a 
place?  Or  in  a  house  so  lonely?  They  might 
creep  in  and  find  a  room  to  hide  in,  eat  spar- 
ingly, sleep  if  they  cared  to,  and  move  on 
towards  the  Allies'  camp  when  night  came  on. 
They  could  then  take  their  chance  of  getting 
through  the  German  lines  and  into  the  English 
or  the  French  camp. 

A  terrace  ran  along  the  front  of  the  house, 
and  Maurice  and  Quinton  sought  to  reach  it. 
They  were  anxious  to  get  some  rest,  for  they 
were  dog-tired.  The  rose-trees  barred  the  way, 
however.  By  the  look  of  things,  months,  but, 
more  possibly,  years  had  passed  since  any 
human  being  had  gone  through  the  garden  to 
the  terrace,  for  the  thorns  were  an  effectual 
hindrance. 

They  tried  elsewhere,  and  by  going  carefully, 
avoiding  the  thorns,  and  crawling  when  possible 

260 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  261 

among  the  soft  undergrowth,  which  they  cut  at 
with  their  hunting-knives,  they  reached  the  ter- 
race steps.  They  were  broken,  and  the  wild 
lilies  had  forced  their  way  through  the  joints, 
splitting  the  stonework  and  shifting  it  from  its 
place. 

The  terrace  was  dilapidated,  and  they  had  to 
go  carefully.  Here  and  there  were  some  of  the 
broken  shutters,  fallen  from  the  windows,  and 
smashed  on  the  stones.  But  at  last  Maurice, 
who  was  in  front,  stood  in  the  open  doorway. 
The  moon  was  still  shining,  and  he  was  look- 
ing into  a  hall  where  the  light  came  through 
the  windows,  showing  as  much  ruin  within  as 
without.  The  tesselated  floor  was  broken,  the 
steps  of  the  grand  staircase  were  either  worm- 
eaten  or  had  been  torn  away  to  light  a  fire  by 
some  tramp  who  wanted  warmth  while  shelter- 
ing in  the  mansion. 

They  stepped  inside  and  listened,  but  there 
was  not  a  sound. 

"We  will  go  the  round  of  the  place,  and  per- 
haps find  somewhere  to  lie  down  and  sleep," 
said  Quinton,  looking  in  at  a  half -open  door. 
The  room  was  empty,  and  the  next.  The  room 
beyond  it  was  empty,  also.  Wherever  they 
looked  it  was  the  same. 

"What  a  wretched  place,"  exclaimed 
Maurice,  sitting  on  the  stairs.  He  stopped 
suddenly,  for  he  heard  a  noise  like  the  slam- 
ming of  a  door  and  the  twisting  of  a  key  in  a 
lock.  Then  came  sounds  like  running  foot- 
steps. 


262  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Let  us  get  out  of  sight,"  whispered  Quin- 
ton,  who  had  been  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  facing  Maurice,  who  seemed  very  much 
worn  out  with  the  hard  night  tramp.  They  had 
barely  slipped  behind  some  rotting  curtains  at 
one  of  the  windows  when  they  saw  a  woman 
come  down  the  stairs  laughing,  and  as  she  came 
slowly  and  carefully  because  the  steps  were  so 
broken,  those  who  were  watching,  unknown 
to  her,  saw  her  face  as  the  moonlight  fell 
on  it. 

She  was  German,  and  there  was  something 
vindictive  in  her  looks. 

"Now  that  accursed  English  girl  can  starve, 
and  so  much  less  vermin  will  be  in  the  world ! ' ' 
she  cried,  not  thinking  that  anyone  would  hear 
her  in  that  lonely  mansion. 

She  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  listen. 
She  laughed  aloud  when  she  heard  a  girl 's  voice 
calling  to  be  let  out,  and  beating  heavily  on  the 
door. 

"Cry  out,  my  beauty!  No  one  will  hear 
youl"  the  woman  screamed,  and  she  laughed 
again.  Then  she  turned  on  her  heel  and,  mov- 
ing down  the  hall,  went  out  on  the  terrace. 

Maurice  followed  softly  to  see  where  she 
went.  He  saw  her  pass  along  the  terrace  and 
down  the  steps,  and  then  she  made  her  cautious 
way  through  the  entangled  garden,  laughing 
mockingly  as  she  heard  more  and  more  faintly 
the  cry  and  the  knocking  of  the  imprisoned 
girl. 

Maurice  hurried  back. 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  263 

"You  heard  what  she  said!"  he  asked,  and 
Quinton  saw  the  startled  look  on  his  face. 

"Yes.  We  must  go  to  her.  She  will  be 
terrified  to  death,  to  be  shut  up  in  this  dreadful 
place,"  said  Quinton,  who  moved  up  the  stair- 
case before  he  ended ;  and  Maurice,  forgetful  of 
his  weariness,  brushed  past  him. 

At  the  bend  of  the  stairs  he  had  to  go  more 
slowly,  for  it  was  dark,  and  he  did  not  know 
how  broken  the  floor  might  be.  The  girl's  cries, 
and  the  sound  of  her  loud  knocks  on  the  door, 
guided  him  to  the  spot. 

"Are  you  a  prisoner  in  that  room!"  he  cried. 
The  girl's  calls  ceased,  and  she  no  longer  beat 
upon  the  door. 

"Yes.  A  woman  who  had  charge  of  me  de- 
coyed me  here,  and  I  am  locked  in.  She  tells 
me  I  am  to  stay  here  and  die." 

Maurice  started  at  the  voice. 

"Who  are  you 7"  he  cried,  and  by  this  time 
Quinton  was  at  his  elbow. 

"My  name  is  Marjorie  Millard.  I  am  an 
English  girl,  and  supposed  to  be  interned." 

Maurice  felt  himself  trembling  at  the  words. 

"Did  you  say  'Marjorie  Millard'?"  he  ex- 
claimed, wondering  whether  he  dreamed,  or  had 
heard  aright. 

"That  is  my  name.     Can  you  let  me  out?" 

Maurice  felt  about  the  door.  The  woman 
was  empty-handed  when  she  passed  through  the 
hall,  and  he  wondered  whether  she  had  left  the 
key  in  the  lock.  As  his  hand  smoothed  over  the 
woodwork  a  cry  of  relief  came: 


264  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

1  'The  key  is  here!" 

He  twisted  it,  lifting  the  ornamental  latch  at 
the  same  moment. 

"We  are  English,  too,"  he  called,  while  he 
was  doing  this,  thinking  it  would  remove  any 
fear  that  she  might  have  lest  in  coming  out  of 
one  danger  she  might  fall  into  another  with  a 
stranger. 

By  this  time  the  door  was  opened. 

"And  I  am  your  brother  Maurice,"  he  ex- 
claimed, as  the  door  fell  back  on  its  hinges,  and 
he  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"My  brother  Maurice?"  cried  Marjorie. 
With  a  cry  of  joy,  seeing  him  in  the  moonlight 
which  shone  into  the  room,  flooding  it  with  pale 
light,  she  went  to  him  and  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

"Maurice I"  she  cried  again.  "Is  it  really 
so?  Come  to  the  window,  and  let  me  see  you. 
You  are  dressed  like  a  German  countryman," 
she  said,  half  hysterically;  "and  yet  it  is 
my  brother's  voice.  Ah,  yes!  and  it  is  his 
face!" 

They  took  the  risks  of  discovery,  all  three  of 
them,  and  sat  and  talked.  Maurice  explained 
how  it  came  that  he  and  Quinton  were  there, 
and  why  they  wore  the  garb  of  German  farm 
laborers  instead  of  wearing  khaki.  The  joy  of 
finding  each  other  was  so  great  that  they  forgot 
their  danger;  that  at  any  moment  someone 
might  intrude  on  them  and  discover  them,  and 
carry  them  back  to  captivity  again.  The  thing 
that  absorbed  them  was  this  fact,  that  Maurice 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE          265 

had  found  his  sister,  and  that  she  was  able  to 
tell  how  she  had  sought  shelter  with  the  Sisters, 
but  had  been  overtaken  by  the  Germans  in  their 
attempted  flight,  and  carried  away  a  prisoner 
with  the  others,  first  to  be  treated  with  a  cer- 
tain easiness,  and  their  treatment  growing 
harder  week  by  week,  until  it  became  positive 
cruelty. 

It  was  Marjorie 's  lot  to  have  a  woman  as  her 
wardress  in  the  prison,  not  far  away  from  this 
deserted  mansion,  whose  hate  for  everything 
English  was  intense  and  monstrous.  She  de- 
signed constant  unkindnesses,  until  life  became 
almost  unbearable.  Then  it  ended  in  this  decoy 
to  the  deserted  mansion  on  the  plea  that  she 
would  receive  warrant  for  release,  but  was  left 
there  to  starve  and  die. 

The  starvation  was  likely  to  be  very  real,  for 
Marjorie  had  had  no  food  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  after  her  excitement  had  subsided, 
she  began  to  feel  faint.  Maurice  pulled  out  his 
bag,  and  dusting  the  table  before  opening  it,  he 
spread  out  what  he  had  for  her  to  take  her 
choice.  Quinton  had  food  also,  but  it  was  dif- 
ferent, so  that  Marjorie  could  take  what  most 
she  liked. 

By  the  time  the  food  was  packed  back  into 
the  bags  it  was  daylight,  and  they  began  to  talk 
of  their  plans  for  getting  away.  They  feared 
to  go  in  the  daytime.  Their  only  chance  was 
to  go  by  night,  drawing  if  possible  nearer  to 
one  or  other  of  the  Allied  armies ;  for  whether 
English  or  French  it  would  be  deliverance. 


266  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

They  moved  from  room  to  room,  always 
listening  for  any  sound  or  sign  to  indicate 
danger,  but  none  came.  They  found  a  bed- 
chamber at  last,  and  Marjorie,  shifting  a  table 
by  the  bedside  and  close  by  the  wall,  spoke  in 
a  tone  of  surprise  which  attracted  the  others, 
who  were  looking  about  to  see  whether  it  would 
be  safe  to  stay  there.  The  table  moved  heavily, 
but  with  it  came  a  portion  of  the  oaken  board- 
ing from  the  table  top  down  to  the  floor.  When 
Maurice  went  to  his  sister's  side  he  saw  that 
there  was  a  chamber  beyond  this  one,  lit  dimly 
by  a  small  window,  the  glass  of  which  was 
nearly  covered  by  the  ivy  outside.  He  crawled 
in,  and  pulling  the  window  open,  tore  away, 
some  of  the  leaves  to  let  in  the  light  more 
freely. 

"There's  more  here  than  meets  the  eye  at 
first,"  he  said,  realizing  the  possibilities. 
"Come  in,  both  of  you,  but  push  the  bolt  in 
that  door,  to  keep  out  intruders,  if  any  should 
come." 

They  looked  around.  In  the  wall  opposite 
that  awkward  entrance  was  a  door,  and  when 
they  opened  it  they  saw  some  stone  steps  lead- 
ing downwards.  Groping  their  way  down  in 
the  darkness,  they  came  to  a  door  which  was 
bolted  on  the  inside.  Drawing  it  open  as  softly 
as  possible,  since  the  hinges  were  rusted,  they 
found  themselves  in  a  small  plantation,  and 
beyond  it  a  great  meadow,  and  beyond  that 
again  what  had  the  appearance  of  an  aero- 
drome. 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  267 

"Have  you  seen  that  before,  Marjorie!" 
Maurice  asked. 

"Many  a  time.  They  practice  every  day 
when  the  aeroplanes  are  not  all  out ;  but  for  the 
last  four  days  I  have  only  seen  one,  and  that 
has  the  appearance  of  an  English  machine.  It 
starts  from  this  meadow,  and  generally  very 
near  to  the  plantation.  Do  you  see  that  big 
building  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away!" 

Maurice  and  Quinton  looked  in  the  direction 
in  which  she  pointed. 

"What  is  it?"  Quinton  asked. 

"The  prison  where  the  Sisters  and  I  were 
interned." 

They  moved  forward  cautiously  to  see  what 
was  beyond  the  wall  which  cut  off  the  view,  and 
what  they  saw  took  them  by  surprise,  and  they 
hurried  back  to  the  door,  entered,  fastened  it 
on  the  inside,  and  went  to  the  hidden  chamber, 
where  they  watched  from  the  window. 

A  powerful  aeroplane  was  under  the  wall, 
with  its  face  turned  to  the  open  country,  due 
south.  It  was  fitted  with  a  revolving  gun,  and 
a  German  pilot  and  an  observer  were  looking 
to  the  ammunition,  and  carefully  examining  the 
gun  which  was  fixed  to  a  platform  which  re- 
volved around  the  observer,  enabling  him  to 
fire  backwards,  sideways,  or  forwards,  and  at 
any  angle  in  case  of  a  fight  in  the  air. 

"I  never  thought  much  of  a  German's  readi- 
ness to  play  the  game,"  Quinton  exclaimed 
scornfully;  "but  here  is  proof  of  his  disregard 
of  what  is  honorable  in  fighting." 


268  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

He  pointed  to  the  aeroplane,  which  was  Ger- 
man built,  but  disguised  to  deceive  the  Allies, 
and  make  them  think  it  was  an  English 
machine.  The  Allies'  mark  was  painted  on 
the  wings,  and  also  on  the  fusilage. 

The  two  men  were  getting  the  aeroplane 
ready  for  a  flight,  and  they  were  laughing  to 
think  how  they  would  not  only  deceive  but  sur- 
prise their  enemies,  because  they  had  on  board 
a  plentiful  supply  of  bombs. 

From  the  window  above  every  word  that  was 
said  could  be  plainly  heard. 

"She  is  in  full  working  order  now,"  said  the 
pilot.  "We  can  set  her  going  in  three  minutes, 
so  we  will  go  and  have  a  meal  before  we  start. " 

1 '  The  best  thing  possible,  ' '  said  the  observer, 
getting  out  of  his  seat  in  the  gun  platform. 
"We  shall  startle  the  English  a  bit  this  time, 
unless  we  take  a  turn  with  Joffre. ' ' 

"We'll  talk  that  over  while  we  eat,"  said  the 
pilot,  and  they  walked  off,  laughing,  not  aware 
of  the  eyes  that  watched  them. 

Maurice  spoke  in  a  whisper. 

"Here's  a  chance,  Quinton." 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,"  Quin- 
ton exclaimed.  "You  think  we  could  appro- 
priate that  machine,  and  get  away  from  here  ? ' ' 

"That's  the  ticket!"  said  Maurice  excitedly. 
"I  propose  that  as  soon  as  those  two  fellows 
are  out  of  sight,  we  slip  through  the  plantation 
and  round  the  wall.  You  can  act  as  pilot,  I  can 
be  observer,  and  Marjorie  can  sit  with  me,  if 
she  doesn't  mind  a  bit  of  squeezing." 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE          269 

Marjorie  clapped  her  hands  softly,  and  her 
pretty  face  beamed  with  fun. 

"Won't  that  be  spoiling  the  Egyptians!"  she 
said.  "Look,  Maurice.  They  are  gone.  Now 
is  the  time,  for  fear  they  should  come  back  be- 
fore we  can  settle  in  our  places. ' ' 

She  did  not  wait  for  the  others.  Time  was 
precious,  and  groping  her  way  down  the  steps 
she  opened  the  door,  and  looking  about  in  all 
directions,  she  hurried  through  the  plantation, 
with  the  others  at  her  heels. 

"Follow  me,"  she  exclaimed,  her  voice  vi- 
brating with  excitement;  for  her  swift  glances 
showed  her  that  no  human  being  was  nearer 
than  the  aerodrome  into  which  the  Germans 
had  disappeared. 

She  stood  by  the  side  of  the  aeroplane  im- 
patiently waiting  for  Maurice  to  climb  into  his 
place.  Before  many  moments  had  gone  she 
was  settling  down  by  his  side,  shrinking  into 
as  small  a  space  as  possible,  to  give  him  free- 
dom, if  he  had  need  to  use  the  gun.  Quinton, 
now  in  his  element,  was  in  his  seat,  and  already 
the  aeroplane  was  trembling,  ready  for  her 
rise. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  asked,  from  behind. 

"Yes." 

1  *  Then  we  are  off. ' ' 

1 '  Take  her  over  the  hangar,  and  drop  a  bomb 
on  it,"  suggested  Marjorie,  who  was  so  excited 
that  she  could  not  sit  still. 

"I  will,  if  I  can  manage  it.  I  have  to  get 
used  to  this  machine.  Yes,  I  see!  She's  all 


270  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

right.  Now  I  am  going  to  climb.  I'll  get  above 
that  cloud  if  I  can,  and  be  out  of  reach  of  any 
rifle.  You  aren't  frightened,  are  you?"  Quin- 
ton  asked. 

"Frightened!"  said  Marjorie  protestingly. 
"I  am  all  for  flying;  thousands  of  feet  high  if 
you  like,  Mr.  Quinton.  Anywhere,  so  long  as 
we  leave  those  cruel  Germans  behind  us  and  get 
home.  For  I'm  dreadfully  homesick,"  she 
added;  and  Maurice,  turning  to  look,  saw  that 
his  sister's  face  was  very  white. 

"Isn't  it  delightful!"  she  cried,  as  they 
circled  the  field,  headed  into  the  wind,  and  were 
off,  climbing  up  to  the  clouds.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  the  nose  of  the  aeroplane  was  pointing  to 
them.  But  she  exclaimed  with  a  catch  of  her 
breath : 

"They  have  come  out  to  see  what  the  noise 
means,  Maurice!" 

She  pointed  downwards  to  the  Germans  who 
had  been  getting  ready  for  this  trip.  They 
had  come  to  the  door  of  the  aerodrome  and  saw 
what  was  an  amazement  to  them,  unless  it  was 
some  other  machine.  They  must  have  glanced 
across  to  the  meadow  and  seen  that  the  place 
was  empty;  that  this  was  their  own  aeroplane. 
Those  who  were  in  it,  mounting  high,  could  see 
that  they  realized  the  fact,  for  the  men  were 
dancing  about  in  a  rage,  until  one  ran  into  the 
building  and  brought  out  a  rifle. 

"Drop  a  bomb  on  them,  Millard,"  Quinton 
cried ;  but  the  bomb  was  already  on  its  way.  It 
struck  the  aerodrome  full  on  the  roof;  there 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  271 

was  a  tremendous  explosion,  and  the  place  was 
a  heap  of  ruins. 

Quinton  did  not  loiter  but  flew  on.  They 
reached  the  cloud,  drove  into  it  and  above  it, 
and  for  a  little  while  saw  nothing  of  what  was 
below,  until  they  once  more  got  into  clear  air 
again.  Far  below  they  saw  the  fields — tiny 
squares  of  green,  and  villages  full  of  what 
appeared  to  be  toy  houses.  Quinton  dropped 
a  little  lower,  knowing  that  he  would  be  in  no 
danger  so  long  as  he  kept  clear  of  camps  and 
towns. 

On  and  on  they  went,  the  aeroplane  flying 
splendidly. 

"Where  do  you  think  we  shall  get?"  cried 
Maurice. 

"Over  the  German  lines,  and  into  the 
French.  If  you  have  the  chance  drop  some- 
thing where  there's  likely  to  be  a  bang.  It  will 
help  to  pay  back  a  lot  of  our  misery  and  their 
wanton  cruelty.*' 

"You  need  not  tell  me  that,"  said  Maurice, 
who  was  alert.  ' '  The  German  lines  are  yonder. 
They  won't  touch  us,  for  they  must  know  all 
about  this  faked  aeroplane.  They  will  very 
likely  know  we  belong  to  them  although  we 
wear  the  English  colors." 

They  were  not  to  get  away,  however,  unchal- 
lenged. As  they  swept  over  the  German  quar- 
ters, where  stores  were  accumulated  in  enor- 
mous quantities,  an  aeroplane  began  to  rise. 
She  was  coming  up  to  inquire  whether  this  was 
a  German  machine. 


272  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Got  your  gun  ready?"  Quinton  asked. 

"Yes.  But  if  you  could  manage  to  bring  us 
right  over  the  German  flyer  I  might  singe  his 
wings  for  him.  Ah,  you  've  done  it ! "  he  cried, 
a  few  moments  later,  and  a  bomb  dropped.  It 
did  not  hit  the  machine  full  in  the  center,  but 
it  broke  through  one  of  her  wings  and  tore  a 
hole  in  it.  It  exploded,  and  the  machine  seemed 
to  crumple  up,  and  fell  headlong  thousands  of 
feet. 

"I'm  going  to  put  her  full  speed  on,  but  keep 
a  hand  on  the  gun.  Drop  some  bombs  over 
those  munition  wagons  if  you  can,"  cried  Quin- 
ton, who  was  piloting  with  all  his  old  skill.  He 
was  a  master  in  an  aeroplane,  and  this  one 
answered  to  his  call  as  though  it  were  a  crea- 
ture with  life  in  it.  When  he  wanted  it  to  be 
stationary,  it  yielded,  and  a  bomb  went  down, 
but  missed  the  mark  by  a  few  yards.  Even 
thus,  however,  there  was  an  explosion.  An- 
other followed,  aimed  with  precision,  and  they 
saw  clearly  the  havoc  it  wrought. 

"Now  make  for  camp,"  cried  Maurice;  and 
the  aeroplane  went  swinging  on.  Her  propeller 
was  whirling  at  fourteen  hundred  revolutions 
a  minute,  and  she  seemed  to  leap  on.  A  sound 
came  to  them  like  the  report  of  a  revolver,  and 
there  was  a  burst  of  shrapnel  below;  but  none 
of  it  touched  them.  Marjorie  clasped  her 
hands,  and  gazed  into  her  brother's  face,  but 
he  was  so  calm  and  unconcerned  that  her  own 
courage  returned. 

"There's  nothing  to  fear,  Sis,  for  Quinton 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  273 

is  mounting  out  of  reach.  Look  down  and  see 
that!" 

When  she  looked,  she  saw  -the  shrapnel 
bursting  very  far  below. 

"Shall  we  be  long  now?"  she  asked,  looking 
round  to  Quinton,  who  smiled  when  he  saw  the 
anxiety  in  her  face. 

"Less  than  half  an  hour." 

The  German  lines  were  left  behind  them 
while  he  spoke.  Below  them  were  the  French 
trenches,  and  Quinton,  now  that  danger  had 
passed,  and  liberty  was  won,  descended, 
spiraling  gracefully;  and  before  long  the  aero- 
plane had  ended  her  journey,  and  was  still. 

The  aeroplane  had  descended  in  the  midst  of 
a  number  of  French  soldiers  who  had  just  been 
withdrawn  from  the  trenches.  The  sight  of  an 
Allies'  war-plane  merely  aroused  interest,  but 
when  they  saw  two  men  in  German  peasant 
garb  getting  out  of  the  machine,  there  was  a 
shout,  half  of  execration  and  half  of  triumph, 
and  then  a  disorderly  rush  to  hem  in  these  two 
enemy  men  who,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had 
been  forced  to  descend  within  the  French  lines. 

While  Maurice  was  helping  Marjorie  to  step 
out  from  her  place  two  officers  approached,  each 
with  a  drawn  revolver,  and  simultaneously  they 
called  on  these  supposed  Germans  to  surrender. 

By  that  time  Marjorie  had  safely  landed  on 
the  grass,  and  her  face  was  bright  with  laughter 
after  the  great  strain  she  had  undergone,  and 
with  the  thought  that  she  was  now  among 
friends.  She  was  startled  for  the  moment  to 


274  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

see  two  Frenchmen  holding  revolvers  in  readi- 
ness, and  the  fierce  looks  of  the  soldiers  who 
were  ringing  them  round,  with  loud  and  threat- 
ening cries.  But  the  moment  he  had  safely 
landed  his  sister,  Maurice  swung  round,  and 
seeing  the  menace  in  the  faces  of  the  soldiers, 
he  burst  into  laughter. 

' 'Surrender!"  cried  one  of  the  officers,  laying 
a  hand  on  Maurice's  shoulder,  but  at  the  same 
time  surprised  to  see  that  the  supposed  Ger- 
mans' eyes  were  dancing  with  amusement. 

"It's  a  mistake,"  cried  Quinton,  when  the 
other  officer  gripped  his  arm.  "We  are  Eng- 
lishmen. Be  silent  for  one  moment,"  he  ex- 
claimed, for  the  clamor  around  the  little  group 
was  so  great  that  his  words  were  not  likely  to 
be  heard. 

"Silence,"  roared  the  loud-voiced  senior 
officer,  who  was  staring  at  Marjorie,  whose 
pretty  face  was  that  of  an  English  girl,  just  as 
her  dress  was.  She  was  certainly  not  German. 

The  noise  died  down,  the  only  sounds  being 
that  incessant  roar  of  artillery  and  the  rattle 
of  rifles  in  the  trenches.  The  soldiers  were 
eager  now,  as  they  crowded  around  the  pris- 
oners, to  hear  what  the  explanation  might  be. 

"You  say  you  are  Englishmen?"  exclaimed 
the  officer,  who  was  staring  hard  at  Marjorie. 

"Yes,"  said  Quinton.  "If  you  will  give  us 
five  minutes,  we  will  explain;  but  pray,  mon- 
sieur, do  not  dig  your  fingers  quite  so  fiercely 
into  my  tender  flesh.  We  have  had  plenty  of, 
rough  treatment  from  German  hands,  and  do 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  275 

not  want  a  repetition  at  the  hands  of  our 
friends. ' ' 

He  spoke  with  a  nonchalance  which  made  the 
Frenchmen  stare  at  him  in  greater  surprise. 

"He  doesn't  look  German,"  said  one  of  the 
soldiers. 

' '  Of  course  he 's  German, ' '  another  muttered. 
"Look  at  his  clothes — made  in  Germany."  He 
stopped  abruptly  when  his  officer,  taking  his 
hand  from  Maurice,  swung  round  and  faced  the 
speaker. 

"Jacques,  the  order  was  for  silence,"  he  said 
sharply. 

"Pardon,  monsieur.  I  only  meant  to  whis- 
per, but  the  sight  of  two  Germans  was  too 
much,"  was  the  whimsical  answer,  and  the  sol- 
dier, whose  head  was  bandaged,  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"Now  for  your  explanation,  monsieur,"  said 
the  Major. 

In  a  silence  that  was  intense,  wherein  the 
Frenchmen  listened  spellbound,  the  story  came, 
and  when  it  ended  there  was  a  roar  of  applause. 
The  soldiers  gazed  at  these  three,  the  pretty 
English  mademoiselle  and  the  two  supposed 
German  peasants ;  then  they  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  the  aeroplane,  and  their  execrations  at 
the  shameless  deception  rendered  it  impossible 
for  Maurice  and  the  others,  for  some  minutes, 
to  make  themselves  heard  when  they  wished  to 
speak  to  the  officer. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  the  Major;  but  even 
these  words  were  not  heard;  and  he  moved 


276  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

away,  holding  Marjorie  by  the  hand,  and 
beckoning  to  the  others  to  follow. 

"I  fear,  mademoiselle,  you  are  tired,"  he 
said  gently,  while  they  were  going  forward. 

" Tired,  monsieur!"  exclaimed  Marjorie,  now 
at  ease,  and  her  fears  all  gone.  "I  could  lie 
down  anywhere — here,  among  all  this  debris — 
and  sleep.  I  think  I  could  sleep  on  and  on 
for  twenty-four  hours;  and  oh,  I  am  so 
hungry!" 

"I  think  we  could  eat  our  boots,"  said 
Maurice,  who  had  drawn  level  with  the  officer; 
for  in  the  excitement  of  their  escape  they  had 
left  their  bags  of  food  in  the  hidden  room  of  the 
deserted  mansion.  "But  for  what  we  had  in 
that  woman's  farmhouse,  we  have  not  had  a 
good,  square,  wholesome  meal  since  we  were 
made  prisoners  of  war.  And  as  for  money  to 
buy  one,  we  are  stony  broke.  I  have  not  so 
much  as  a  centime  about  me,  but  Quinton, 
here,  is  the  proud  possessor  of  five  German 
marks." 

"Four  only,"  said  Quinton,  smiling,  and 
pulling  out  what  loose  coins  he  had  in  his 
capacious  pockets,  and  holding  them  in  the 
palm  of  his  open  hand  for  the  Major  to  see. 
"I  had  more,  but  lost  them  in  our  adventures, 
when  we  had  to  put  ourselves  into  all  sorts  of 
postures." 

The  Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
laughed. 

"You  shall  do  what  you  English  people  call 
— what  is  it?  Is  it  not  'go  on  tick'?  You 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE  277 

shall  have  a  meal,  mademoiselle,  fit  for  a  prin- 
cess, and  then  sleep  if  you  will  for  a  week,  and 
wake  to  find  that  we  have  won  several  of  the 
German  trenches,  and  made  fine  use  of  that 
counterfeit  aeroplane.  Ah !  but  here  we  are  at 
the  General's  quarters.  A  thousand  pardons 
for  keeping  you  at  starvation  point  ten  minutes 
longer,  but  it  is  my  duty  to  report  my  prisoners 
of  war." 

He  laughed  loudly,  and  passed  into  the  house 
with  his  companions,  at  whom  the  sentry 
scowled,  thinking  them  Germans,  but  looking 
surprised  to  find  an  English  girl  among  them. 

"A  spy!"  Maurice  heard  him  mutter,  and 
then  the  soldier  spat  on  the  ground  in  his  con- 
tempt. 

The  General  was  the  Colonel,  but  now  pro- 
moted, who  had  met  with  Maurice  when  he 
brought  in  his  dispatch  for  General  Joffre  after 
that  dangerous  ride  and  adventure  in  the  bog; 
but  he  did  not  recognize  him  in  this  compromis- 
ing garb.  He  listened  to  the  story  as  the  Major 
told  it;  then  bade  Maurice  come  forward.  He 
stepped  up  to  the  table,  and  then,  at  the  wish 
of  the  General,  went  to  his  side,  where  he  stood 
in  the  sunlight  which  played  on  his  face. 

"It  is  true!"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  few  mo- 
ments' scrutiny.  "  'Tis  Lieutenant  Millard!" 
His  hand  went  out  and  met  Maurice's  in  a 
hearty  grip.  "And  is  this  your  sister!"  he 
asked,  turning  to  Marjorie.  When  Maurice 
assured  him  that  she  was,  he  bade  her  and  the 
others  follow. 


278  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

"Mademoiselle  says  she  is  hungry,  General, 
and  could  sleep  for  twenty-four  hours  on  end," 
said  the  Major,  smiling. 

"She  shall  have  food  and  sleep.  This  lady 
and  these  gentlemen  are  my  guests  until  they 
are  rested  sufficiently  to  travel  to  the  British 
camp,"  the  General  declared,  leading  them  to 
his  own  apartments,  and  handing  them  over  to 
the  care  of  the  maid. 

Three  days  later  Maurice  and  Quinton  re- 
ported themselves,  and  what  knowledge  they 
brought  with  them  of  the  enemy  was  carefully 
noted  by  the  British  Staff. 

"I  think,  Lieutenant  Millard,  you  could  do 
with  a  rather  prolonged  leave  of  absence.  You 
and  Quinton  look  as  though  you  needed  a  bit 
of  rest,  and  you  may  start  at  once.  Take 
your  sister  with  you,  Lieutenant,  and  set  your 
father's  and  mother's  minds  at  rest,"  said  the 
Commanding  Officer  in  a  tone  so  kind  that  all 
three  were  greatly  touched  by  his  gentle  con- 
sideration. 

They  turned  to  go.  Their  papers  were  to  be 
sent  to  their  billets  that  night,  and  arrange- 
ments Would  be  made  for  them  to  start  for 
England  in  the  morning. 

"One  word,  Quinton,"  said  the  General,  as 
they  were  moving  towards  the  door.  "What 
IB  your  rank!" 

"Sergeant  in  the  Flying  Corps,  General." 

"Then  you  are  promoted  to  a  lieutenancy. 
Will  you  see  to  that,  Colonel  Newton,  and  see, 


THE  GERMAN  WAR-PLANE          279 

as  well,  that  Lieutenant  Quinton  goes  home 
fully  habilitated  as  such?  And  you,  Millard. 
Reports  came  in  of  your  fighting  in  the 
trenches.  I  have  already  sent  forward  a 
recommendation  for  the  Distinguished  Conduct 
Medal.  I  shall  mention  you  again,  and  it  will 
count  for  promotion  later  on.  When  you  re- 
turn from  leave  I  hope  to  hear  that  it  has  been 
given  into  your  hands.  As  for  you,  Quinton, 
I  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  your  fine  stand 
against  the  threat  and  temptation  to  disloyalty 
in  that  German  workshop.  In  my  next  dis- 
patch, which  goes  to-night,  you  will  be  recom- 
mended for  the  medal.  Good-by." 

The  journey  began  next  morning  to  Havre, 
the  idea  being  that  the  ship  in  which  they  sailed 
should  proceed  to  Plymouth.  Before  they  left 
Havre,  Maurice  sent  a  long  telegram  home, 
telling  them  he  was  safe,  and  would  some 
day  be  home  on  leave,  bringing  Marjorie  with 
him. 

"We'll  give  them  a  surprise,  Sis,  and  get  in 
on  the  heels  of  that  telegram,"  said  Maurice, 
as  they  came  out  of  the  telegraph  office.  Their 
faces  were  full  of  happiness,  for  they  were 
thinking  of  the  home-going,  and  of  the  joy  of 
being  with  the  dear  ones  again  after  facing  so 
much  peril. 

The  steamer  was  full  of  soldiers  also  going 
home  on  leave,  and  she  went  out  of  the  harbor 
in  the  full  glare  of  the  sunshine  which  made  the 
waves  sparkle. 

"Isn't  it  lovely!"  exclaimed  Marjorie,  as  the 


280 

ship  rolled  in  passing  out  of  the  port.  She 
opened  her  mouth  wide  and  breathed  in  the 
salt  sea  air.  ''It's  better  than  the  German 
air,"  she  said,  turning  her  laughing  eyes  to 
Maurice.  "I  shall  never  want  to  leave  home 
after  this!" 


XX 
HOME  AGAIN 

A  FEW  days  later  a  taxicab  drove  up  to  the 
floor  of  the  house  where  Marjorie  and 
Maurice  hoped  to  find  their  mother  and 
father.  It  was  nearly  breakfast  time,  and  as 
they  entered  the  hall  the  maid,  who  received 
them  with  a  cry  of  delight,  lifted  her  finger  by 
way  of  warning. 

"We  are  at  family  prayers." 

They  crept  to  the  door  and  opened  it  softly. 
Their  father  was  praying,  and  they  heard  the 
words : 

"Our  trust  is  that  the  dear  ones  may  come 
home  safely  some  day.  We  left  them  in  God's 
hands. ' ' 

A  moment  more  and  the  prayer  was  ended. 
Marjorie  could  wait  no  longer.  She  flung  the 
door  wide  open,  and  entering,  with  Maurice  at 
her  heels,  they  went  to  the  arms  of  those  who 
had  waited  and  prayed  for  their  safe  return. 

The  joy  of  that  meeting  was  beyond  words, 
the  first  that  were  spoken  coming  from  their 
mother's  lips. 

"How  shall  I  thank  God  enough?"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  she  sat  and  watched  the  sun-burnt 
travelers.  "There  never  was  a  day  in  which 
we  did  not  ask  God  to  take  care  of  our  dear 

281 


282  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

ones.  And  just  before  you  opened  the  door 
your  father  was  praying  for  your  safe  return. ' ' 

"We  heard  him,  mother,"  exclaimed  Mar- 
jorie,  whose  eyes  were  bright  with  tears, 
although  her  face  was  full  of  smiles.  Her 
hand  stole  across  to  her  mother's,  and  lifting 
it  she  kissed  it  lovingly. 

"Mother,  I  thought  I  should  never  see  you 
again,  when  the  Germans  took  me  to  their 
prison." 

"But  we  were  praying  for  you,  dear." 

"I  knew  you  were,  and  that  must  be  why  we 
are  here,  after  all  that  Maurice  and  I  have  been 
through. ' ' 

Their  father  was  sitting  at  the  table  watch- 
ing. His  heart  was  almost  too  full  for  him  to 
speak,  but  after  a  time  he  exclaimed : 

"Tell  us  something  of  what  you  have  gone 
through,  my  dears,"  and  Maurice,  whose 
fingers  played  with  the  lapel  of  his  breast 
pocket,  waited  while  Marjorie  told  her  story  of 
the  storming  of  the  school,  and  then  of  the 
escape  with  the  nuns,  as  well  as  of  the  days 
which  followed,  when  the  German  cavalry 
swept  into  the  yard  of  the  Convent  where  the 
Sisters  had  hoped  the  girls  would  be  safe.  It 
was  the  beginning  of  new  troubles  for  them  all, 
and  those  who  listened  to  Marjorie's  story  felt 
themselves  thrill  with  distress  when  they  heard 
of  her  dangers  and  the  persistent  cruelties  to 
which  she  had  been  subjected,  and  the  hatred 
which  was  heaped  upon  her  because  she  was  an 
English  girl.  But  through  it  all  she  had  striven 


HOME  AGAIN  283 

hard  to  keep  up  her  courage,  and  day  and  night 
she  prayed  that  her  father  or  brother  would 
come  and  fetch  her,  or  that  God  would  open  up 
the  way  of  escape,  so  that  she  might  get  home 
again. 

And  my  dear  brother  came!"  she  exclaimed, 
looking  at  him  proudly. 

"He  came  because  God  heard  her  prayer, 
mother,"  said  Maurice  huskily.  Then  he  told 
of  his  own  experiences,  and  of  that  question  of 
betrayal  of  his  country  in  the  German  work- 
shop. 

"I  am  proud  of  my  boy,"  said  his  father 
quietly.  "Yet  it  was  what  I  expected,  since 
honor  was  so  dear  a  thing  to  my  son." 

Maurice  felt  his  heart  throb  at  his  father's 
words,  but  his  mind  was  on  something  else.  He 
drew  out  the  Bible  from  his  pocket  and  set  it 
down  by  his  mother's  hand.  It  was  battered, 
mud-stained,  shabby,  and  broken  with  the  shot 
that  had  pierced  it;  but  his  mother,  when  she 
saw  it,  picked  it  up  and  kissed  it  lovingly. 

"You  kept  your  promise,"  she  said,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  putting  out  her  hand  to  draw 
him  close  to  her. 

"Yes,  mother,"  Maurice  exclaimed.  "I 
promised  and  I  never  forgot;  but  more  than 
once  I  almost  lost  it." 

"I  was  always  proud  of  my  boy  and  girl," 
his  mother  cried,  "but  I  am  prouder  than  ever 
now;"  and  when  she  looked  at  them  they  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  gleaming. 

Mr.  Millard  got  up  from  the  table  and  went 


284  AT  HIS  COUNTRY'S  CALL 

to  the  bureau.  Unlocking  it,  he  drew  out  a 
tiny  leather  case  and  an  official  envelope. 

"This  is  yours,  Maurice,  but  because  you 
were  away  we  opened  it;  and  because  of  what 
is  there,  your  mother  and  I  have  been  doubly 
proud,  and  we  have  prayed  more  than  ever  that 
you  might  be  spared  to  come  home  and  receive 
them." 

Maurice  looked  at  his  father. 

'  *  Open  it,  my  boy, ' '  said  Mr.  Millard,  his  face 
glowing  with  loving  pride;  and  Marjorie  by 
this  time  had  come  round  to  see  what  these 
things  might  be.  Her  arm  went  over  her 
brother's  shoulder  while  he  opened  the  tiny 
case,  which  looked  very  much  as  though  it  con- 
tained a  jewel.  He  gasped  when  he  saw  on  the 
little  velvet  cushion  the  beautiful  silver  medal 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  still  more  when  he 
opened  the  slip  of  paper  which  accompanied  it, 
saying  that  it  came  from  the  French  Com- 
mander in  token  of  his  valor  in  carrying  the 
dispatch  to  him  that  night  when  he  lost  his 
motor-car  in  the  marsh. 

Marjorie  picked  it  up  and  fastened  it  on  his 
khaki  tunic,  and  stood  back  to  look  at  it. 

"Mother,  isn't  it  beautiful?"  she  exclaimed 
in  ecstasy. 

"There's  something  more  yet,"  said  her 
father,  and  Maurice  drew  out  the  letter  from 
the  official  envelope.  The  letter  was  to  tell  him 
that  the  report  and  recommendation  had  been 
sent  because  of  his  service  in  so  many  ways. 
Maurice  was  to  receive  the  medal  for  distin- 


HOME  AGAIN  285 

guished  conduct,  and  notice  would  be  sent  to 
him  as  to  when  he  was  to  come  to  London  to 
receive  it. 

1  'Father,  it's  too  good  to  be  true!"  Maurice 
cried,  as  the  paper  dropped  from  his  fingers; 
"but  I  feel  I  am  not  deserving  of  so  great  an 
honor,  though  I  have  tried  to  do  my  bit  in 
answer  to  my  Country's  Call." 

"And  you  have  done  it  nobly  and  well,  my 
boy.  Now  we  will  kneel  together  and  thank 
God  for  all  He  has  done  for  us,  and  to  ask  that 
His  blessing  may  be  vouchsafed  to  each  of  us 
in  the  future  even  as  it  has  been  in  the  past." 

THE  END 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  Amtriea 


FICTION,  JUVENILE,  ETC. 


J.  J.   BELL  Author  of  "  Wee  Macgresor" 

Cupid  in  Oilskins 

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grant  Tide" etc. 

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